Little Boy Blue and the Man in the Moon
by Papergirl
Summary: He doesn’t know his alphabet yet, but he knows the future. What will Shawn and Juliet do when they discover their young son has psychic abilities... and they're not all they're cracked up to be?
1. Chapter 1

Little Boy Blue and the Man in the Moon

Futurefic is a little bit of a departure for me, but I had this idea while writing my other Psych stories and it could no longer be ignored.

The title comes from the Harry Chapin song, but other than that it has nothing to do with the story as far as I can tell. I even tried to come up with some different, more relevant titles, but I just liked how this one sounded.

Disclaimer: Characters, etc, are obviously not mine. No copyright infringement is intended. I guess Liam is mine, but technically he's half-Shawn and half-Jules, so I don't really own him at all.

* * *

They were on the way to the grocery store when it first happened. Stopped at a red light, Shawn tapping on the steering wheel in time with the music while Juliet leaned backwards to check on Liam. He was just a few days shy of two months old and was sound asleep.

Juliet settled back in her seat, the light turned green, and Liam began to scream like they'd never heard before.

Shawn reacted instinctively to the sudden onset of his son's ear-piercing wails by hitting the brakes. Luckily, there was no one behind them. When Juliet turned in her seat to see what was causing all the fuss from the little pair of lungs, it happened.

A red pick-up truck barreled through the intersection in complete disregard for the red light glowing in its direction. A silver sedan from the opposite street slammed on its brakes, tires shrieking and skidding to a halt, narrowly avoiding a collision.

Juliet turned to look at Shawn. They could both feel the adrenaline pumping through their veins. They knew that if Shawn hadn't stopped exactly when he did, the truck would have plowed right into the passenger side of their car.

By that point, Liam had stopped screaming and was happily gumming his hand.

"That was close," Juliet said quietly. Her heart was still beating wildly against her ribcage.

The light had turned red again. Shawn released his iron grip on the wheel and turned his head to face her.

"That was… weird."

The two of them looked back at Liam, who was content as can be and showed no indication as to what had made him scream like a murdered banshee only moments earlier. Their eyes met again in confusion and befuddlement.

A car honked behind them and Shawn noticed their light was now green. Glancing left and right, and left and right again, he continued driving to the grocery store.

Neither one of them knew what to make of the almost fatal car non-accident. After sharing the strange story with friends and family, they promptly filed it under "one of those things that happened but can't really be satisfactorily explained" and forgot about it.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

The second time it happened, they were at the pediatrician's office. Liam was in for his four month well baby check up and vaccinations.

Throughout Nurse Annie's careful measuring and temperature-taking, Liam was absurdly happy and actually rather flirty, a fact that pleased Shawn to no end.

"A chip off the old block," Shawn told the nurse with a grin. Juliet rolled her eyes.

He leaned over and gave a gentle fist bump to his son. Liam was good at fist bumps; at his age his tiny fingers were frequently curled into fists.

"We'll need him down to his diaper for the doctor," Nurse Annie instructed, smiling cheerfully at Liam. She handed Juliet a clipboard with paperwork. "We'll need you to fill these out, too. Just progress reports on little Liam's development."

The nurse waved to Liam as she left, assuring Shawn and Juliet that the doctor would be in shortly.

As the door closed, Juliet glanced at the paperwork and then at her watch. She'd agreed to meet Shawn at the doctor's office but needed to be back soon so as not to earn Carlton's wrath… well, any more than the usual amount.

"Lassie-face still on the warpath?" Shawn asked her, eyes on Liam as Shawn attempted to unbutton the wiggling guy's onesie.

Juliet wouldn't admit it, but it was still unnerving the way Shawn sometimes just knew things. He wasn't psychic; he'd admitted that to her years ago, but every so often she wondered.

"Yeah," she answered, sinking tiredly into one of the chairs. "Ever since he cut down on the creams and sugars he's been grouchier than normal."

She uncapped the provided pen and started to answer the top questionnaire.

Shawn gently tugged the outfit over Liam's head and held it up triumphantly. He turned his head to grin at Jules. "Maybe someone needs to slip the extra creams and sugars back in. Are you up for the job or should Liam and I swing by for some covert ops?"

"I think I'll just do the grown-up thing and suggest it to him," Jules said with a smile, diligently returning to the paperwork.

"Borrrring," Shawn declared.

A gentle knock on the door interrupted them, and Dr. Mahoney walked in. They exchanged pleasantries and she asked how Liam had been. He was fine, they informed her, and they discussed his latest developments.

Liam remained calm while she examined him, much to Juliet's delight. She could hear the screams and wails of other patients down the hall who weren't as cooperative.

Dr. Mahoney plotted Liam's progress on a growth chart and concluded that she was pretty pleased with him. She told them his next check up would be in two months, and then explained which vaccinations he'd be receiving that day.

The doctor left with a smile and a little wave, and Shawn raised Liam's little arms above his head victoriously.

"Seventy-seventh percentile for height," he imitated a crowd going wild.

Juliet smiled wryly. "Think he'll be taller than you?" she asked cheekily.

"I hope so," Shawn answered truthfully. "How else is he going to be on the NBA All-Star team?"

Another knock, and the same nurse walked back in carrying a small tray.

"Hello again," she announced cheerfully. She had not stepped two feet into the room when Liam started screaming hysterically.

Shawn picked him up immediately, gently bouncing him up and down and trying to calm him, but Liam would have none of it.

The nurse grinned. "He must have a good memory," she said amiably. She put the tray down and started to prepare the first vaccine with the practiced calm of someone used to screaming children.

Liam's cries only grew louder and more desperate. He started wiggling back and forth as if already in agonizing pain, and Shawn had to keep adjusting his grip on him. They offered him a pacifier, his favorite stuffed toy, a change to mommy's arms, but nothing helped.

"Don't' worry; I'm used to not having any friends," Nurse Annie joked. "If you just want to hold him still, we can get it over with and he'll be fine."

Juliet and Shawn tried their best to hold him down, but Liam was wailing and wiggling and strangely strong.

'This is ridiculous,' Jules thought, trying to put more pressure on her son's squirming legs. "Come on, Liam. We're just trying to keep you healthy," she murmured.

"I'll try to be quick," Nurse Annie said loudly over the cries, inching closer to Liam.

His poor little face was so red it was purple, and Juliet couldn't take it anymore. "Wait, wait," she shouted over his screaming.

Shawn let go of Liam's arms and Juliet picked him up.

"Is it okay to wait a bit? Can we reschedule for next week?"

Nurse Annie barely hid her eye roll. Parents were getting softer every day. "Yeah, that's fine. I've already mixed the vaccines but we can use them on the next child."

As soon as the nurse backed off to put the syringes away, Liam's screams died down considerably. Annie smiled warily at them and left.

Jules hugged Liam to her, rocking him gently as his anguished cries turned to soft whimpers.

"Jules," Shawn said, watching the two of them with a look of concern. "What was that about? Do you think he's okay?"

"I don't know. He's probably fine, but my nerves couldn't take it anymore," she moved over to the table, where Shawn picked up Liam's outfit and handed it to her. "Not today anyway."

Shawn rubbed absently at his now partially deafened ear. "Sweet Jesus, does he have a healthy set of lungs or what?"

Juliet had to agree. They packed up their things and made their way to the check out desk to reschedule.

By the time Juliet dragged her weary body through the front door that night, toting a carryout bag chock full of Thai food, Shawn was passed out on the couch, Liam dozing on his stomach. The blue glow of the forgotten television bounced off their sleeping forms.

She deposited dinner on the kitchen table and returned to the living room to be a voyeur. She loved watching her boys sleep, watching her son's body rise and fall gently with her husband's soft, rhythmic breathing.

She stood and stared at them for a long moment; the peace especially welcome after their headache-inducing visit to the pediatrician and her headache-maintaining afternoon of paperwork.

Finally, her stomach growling, she returned to the kitchen, grabbed a carton of sweet chili chicken, and plopped in the chair next to the couch. She stretched her right arm out and managed to snatch the remote control from its precarious perch on Shawn's knee.

The TV was on, as usual, but the cartoons they must have been watching ("Bugs Bunny is far more crucial to our child's development than Baby Einstein!") were over, replaced with the local news.

Juliet had a bite of chicken while considering changing the channel. She encountered enough depressing things at work; sometimes she simply couldn't stomach more of the same.

Just as her finger began its descent on the Channel Up button, the anchorman announced something that caught her attention.

"Shawn!" she hissed, slapping at his leg. She turned the volume up as Shawn sputtered to consciousness.

"Wha – Jules? What? What's going on?" he sputtered sleepily.

Juliet's eyes were riveted to the TV. Next to the anchor's head, below a stock photo of syringes, angry red chyrons spelled out "Massive Vaccine Recall."

Shawn joined his wife in gaping at the television as they learned that pharmaceutical company Wyeth was recalling thousands of its Prevnar vaccines. The tainted batch had already killed two children and hundreds more were already ill.

Jules peeled her eyes away from the screen long enough to share a meaningful look with Shawn. Both pairs of eyes turned to Liam, who was still asleep on Shawn's chest.

"All right," Shawn said almost angrily. "What the hell is going on?"

Juliet eyed their son skeptically. "It could just be a coincidence. We don't even know if he would have received a tainted shot today."

As if on cue, the landline began to ring. Juliet picked it up half-way through the first ring.

"Hello?"

"Hi, this is Clair from Dr. Mahoney's office. May I speak to Mr. or Mrs. Spencer?"

"This is Mrs. Spencer," she said, her eyes once again meeting Shawn's. He made a face and Jules knew he knew who was on the phone and what they were about to say.

Jules "Mmhmmed" her way through the receptionist's introductory spiel. This was getting too bizarre.

"I'll save you time, actually," Juliet interrupted, her kind voice masking her shock. "My son didn't receive the vaccine today. We rescheduled for next week."

"Ah," Claire murmured. Jules could hear papers rustling in the background. "Okay then. Thank you. We'll call and let you know if a new batch will be available before Liam's appointment."

Juliet managed a polite "Thank you," before hanging up and staring, slack-jawed, at Shawn.

Shawn propped himself up slightly against the arm of the couch, trying his best not to wake Liam.

"Shawn, what is going on?"

Both of them knew the other was recalling that day in the car two months earlier.

"I don't know, Jules. It's gotta be just a coincidence," Shawn decided, though he didn't believe himself.

Jules look at Liam, who sighed in his sleep and snuggled more into his father's soft polo. "Yeah. Just a coincidence," she agreed with a conviction she didn't feel.


	3. Chapter 3

Somedays I wish I could just sit at home and write fanfic. I've been trying to keep up with my three stories and then I went and joined the Shules ficathon. But I'm doing it, and if you'll be patient enough you can expect more updates soon. I've been writing by hand lately, so I have to find the time to type them up.

Thanks for all the kind reviews so far. I'm having fun with this one. :-)

* * *

A decent chunk of time passed before it happened again, almost enough time to have forgotten about the first two instances. Almost.

Juliet was throwing things in a suitcase as she packed last-minute for an out-of-town conference she'd known about for two months. Living with Shawn for so long, she'd regrettably noticed some of his less admirable qualities had rubbed off on her. Before Shawn, she would have been packed a week ago, everything folded neatly in place, just waiting for the last minute addition of toiletries. Now, however, she found herself adopting the Shawn Spencer packing style – ten minutes before she's supposed to leave, haphazardly tossing random articles of clothing into her luggage in the vague hope she'd get a complete outfit or two in the end.

Lassiter was picking her up in mere minutes, and the five hour car ride wasn't going to start well if she wasn't ready when he arrived.

Shawn, Gus, and Liam were attempting to play Candyland at the kitchen table where Shawn was keeping an eye on a Hawaiian pizza in the oven.

Liam was finding more sport in using the plastic figures to stage mock fights with Gus. Each fight inevitably ended with one or both plastic guys on the ground, and once Gus had picked them up Liam promptly repeated the process. Gus didn't seem to mind.

Juliet flew into the kitchen.

"Shawn, have you seen my make-up bag?" she asked, eyes frantically scanning the room.

Shawn didn't even look up. "Next to the couch, behind Liam's Optimus Prime," he answered matter-of-factly. One of the benefits of having a husband with eidetic memory.

Juliet bounded away just as an abrupt succession of knocks sounded on the door.

"It's open, Lassie!" Shawn called, picking up a card and flipping it over. "Liam, if you're done slobbering on the blue guy, could you kindly advance him to the next pink square?"

Liam, engrossed in his own version of the game with Gus, ignored him and threw the blue piece on the ground.

"Thank you," Shawn added sarcastically.

The door opened slowly to reveal Lassiter's cautious face. "O'Hara? You ready?" he queried.

Shawn and Juliet had been married for years but Lassiter had informed them upon the initial news of their engagement that he was always going to call her O'Hara. They accepted it without complaint, especially Juliet, who enjoyed the small link to her previous family name. She didn't want their children to have to endure the weight of a hyphenated name, but sometimes she missed being an O'Hara.

"I'll be there in a second!" she called. There was a rapid pounding of feet up the stairs and Shawn grinned at Carlton.

"You should have a seat, Lassie," he suggested, invitingly pushing back an empty chair with his foot. "She's going to be at least another ten minutes."

Lassiter stood stiffly just inside of the kitchen. "I'm fine standing," he replied, and he was – he had five straight hours of sitting ahead of him on their drive.

Gus looked up at him. "Want to join us?" he asked, leaning over to pick up the yellow guy Liam had just sent to the floor.

Lassiter's eyes looked over Liam, Shawn, and Gus before settling on the less-than-pristine Candyland board.

"I'd rather not," he declined politely, fighting down his more biting retorts. He was in the presence of young ears, after all.

"I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm ready!" Juliet called from the other room.

"Okay, Spongebob," Shawn whispered. Liam laughed.

Juliet stumbled into the kitchen, dragging her suitcase and a small duffel bag behind her.

"For the love of Mike, O'Hara, we'll only be gone three days!"

"But also two nights," Shawn added helpfully.

Juliet leaned over and gave Shawn a hurried kiss. She dropped her bags and came over to Liam's seat, opening her arms wide.

"Liam, can you give Mommy a hug and kiss goodbye?"

Liam reached out and gave her the obligatory hug. He leaned his head back and planted a sloppy kiss on her lips.

"Can you say 'Bye' and 'I love you,' to Mommy?' she asked him, giving him another squeeze.

"Can you say 'rush hour traffic?'" Lassiter said under his breath. Juliet glared at him.

"Bad move, Lassiter," Gus commented. Shawn nodded in agreement.

"Bye, Mommy. I love you," Liam said dutifully before turning to Shawn. "Pizza, Daddy?"

Juliet rolled her eyes as she stood. Boys and their food.

Shawn's eyes flicked to the timer on the oven. "Not yet, kiddo."

"Bye, sweetie. See you soon!" Juliet picked up the bags from where she'd left them and turned to Shawn.

"I have my phone if you need to get a hold of me. If for some reason I don't answer my cell, we're at the-"

"The Holiday Inn. I know, I know. Jules, we'll be fine. Yes, this is your first weekend away from us, but we'll be okay. I mean, it's not like I don't know what I'm doing. I've been in charge before."

Jules gave him a look.

"Does that mean no more paint balloon fights?" she asked, eyebrow arched accusingly.

"I can't guarantee that," Shawn stood up, grinning. "But I promise we'll go outside this time around. And we'll be at my dad's tomorrow anyway."

He leaned in and gave her a kiss. Next to them, Lassiter picked invisible lint of his tie and, when the kiss continued beyond what good manners should have dictated, he adjusted his cuffs and cleared his throat.

They broke apart, grinning. "Sorry, Lassiter," Juliet apologized, a little breathless.

Lassiter opened the door, hoping that would speed up the leaving process. "Can we get out of here yet?"

Juliet had the decency to look contrite, then promptly took two more steps away from the door and kissed Liam's cheek and the top of his head. She turned to Gus.

"Keep an eye on them for me, okay, Gus?"

Shawn rolled his eyes good naturedly.

"As always, Jules," Gus responded.

A quick little hug to Liam and Lassiter'd had enough. "Oh, come on," he said, clearly irritated.

Juliet narrowed her eyes and handed him her suitcase with a bit more force than necessary.

"Thanks for taking my bag to the car," she said sweetly, gently nudging Lassiter towards the door.

"But I –" Lassiter protested as Juliet shepherded him out the door in front of her.

She turned to give one last look to her family. "Be good," she warned.

"I will, Mommy," Liam said solemnly before whipping another plastic guy to the ground.

"You, too, sweetie, but I was talking to Daddy."

Gus laughed. Halfway outside, Lassiter snorted. Even Shawn begrudgingly had to smile.

"Aha ha ha," he mock laughed at his wife's joke and ushered her towards the exit. "Have fun!" he called, closing the door after them. As soon as the door had shut, Shawn turned to Gus.

"Finally!" he exclaimed. "I thought they'd never leave." He walked over and opened the oven door to check on dinner's progress.

Gus looked up, eyeing Shawn suspiciously. "Why?" he asked slowly. "What did you have in mind?"

The pizza was done, and Shawn wrangled it back onto its cardboard circle, suffering only two or three minor burns in the process. The oven's buzzer sounded after the fact and Shawn deftly shut it off.

He wasn't fast enough. Liam looked over, eyes growing large. "Pineapple pizza!" he cheered, wiggling down from his perch on the chair next to Gus.

"Get back in your chair, Mister," Shawn admonished. "It's not ready yet."

Shawn turned to sift through the drawers for the pizza cutter.

Liam spun on his little heels and climbed back onto his chair via the small wooden step-up stool that his grandfather had made for him.

At least, Liam attempted to climb back up to the chair. He didn't make it past the stool. He froze, half bent over, his small palms spread wide on the painted squad car on the surface of the stool.

"You okay, Liam?" Gus asked. Shawn turned around at the note of concern in his best friend's voice.

At first Shawn thought maybe Liam had hurt himself, or was lapsing back into the freeze tag game they had played earlier that day. Shawn crossed the room and squatted down next to his son.

"Liam? Buddy?" he asked gently. Liam was still staring at his hands on the police car, almost in a trance. He didn't seem to hear Shawn or indeed be aware of his surroundings at all.

Shawn felt a sickening shiver jog up and down his spine. Gus, too, looked worried, and joined Shawn opposite Liam.

"Liam," Shawn repeated, reaching out an arm. Before he could touch him, Liam lifted his head. Silent tears were sliding down his chubby cheeks and his eyes had a faraway glaze.

"Grandpa," Liam whispered. Shawn looked over Liam's head to Gus, who looked just as alarmed as Shawn.

"Liam?" Shawn said again. "It's Daddy, not Grandpa."

"Grandpa," Liam said again, his shaky voice less of a whisper. Liam looked up and their eyes locked. Shawn felt all the little hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention.

"What about Grandpa?" Shawn sounded much calmer than he felt.

"Help Grandpa," Liam said quietly, raising a hand to his cheek to wipe away the wetness there.

"Help Grandpa?" Gus repeated in confusion. Liam merely nodded, still swiping at tears.

Shawn couldn't believe what he was about to do. It was ludicrous. "Gus, give me your cell."

"What? Why?"

"Just give it to me," Shawn's voice conveyed his urgency, and Gus quickly fished his phone from his pocket.

Shawn dialed the number and hit the button, considering what he was going to say when Henry picked up and accused him of losing his mind.

But Henry didn't accuse him because Henry didn't pick up. The phone rang a dozen times before Shawn hung up and dialed his father's cell number.

Gus and Liam's eyes were on Shawn.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Voicemail.

Shawn hung up. His look said it all to Gus, who launched himself up and grabbed his keys. Shawn picked up Liam, double-checked that the oven was off, and hurried outside after Gus, barely remembering to lock the door behind them.

Since Gus was driving, Shawn's mind was free to oscillate between best case and worst case scenarios.

"He's probably fine. I bet he was in the tub, taking one of those bubble baths he loves," Shawn told Gus without confidence. Gus didn't agree, but wasn't about to say so.

Shawn looked behind him at Liam in his booster seat. The boy was unusually quiet, and in the light from a passing car Shawn thought he caught a glimmer of fresh tears on his cheeks.

"Liam, are you okay, buddy?" he asked gently.

"Help Grandpa," Liam insisted. Shawn swallowed nervously.

It didn't seem ludicrous anymore. It wasn't silly and it wasn't a joke. Something was wrong with his father and somehow Liam knew.

Shawn was out of the car before Gus had even come to a complete stop. The front door didn't seem to get any closer, no matter how fast he ran.

Finally, he made it to the porch. The door wasn't locked and Shawn burst through it, senses on overload.

Not in here.

He hurried to the next room, finally finding his voice.

"Dad? Dad?"

He rounded the corner and his breath caught in his throat. Henry was lying face down on the kitchen floor.

Shawn pushed away the shock and checked his vitals. He was alive, but barely, and he wasn't breathing.

Shawn lunged from the cordless phone and hit 9-1-1 as fast as he could. He started CPR while he churned out information to the dispatcher.

Gus ran into the kitchen, Liam in his arms. At the sight of Henry's prone figure, he placed Liam on the floor and sank to Henry's side to help Shawn with compressions.

Liam stood behind them, silently watching the two men's frantic actions.

Shawn had propped the phone between his shoulder and his ear, but it was too difficult to hold onto it during CPR. He dropped it on the floor and slid it towards Liam.

"Liam, can you talk to the nice lady on the phone?" he asked desperately. Liam waddled over and grabbed the phone. With the deliberate care of a preschooler, he lifted it up to his ear. The lady's business-like voice went over his head.

"Help Grandpa," was all Liam would say. The dispatcher, realizing she was now on the phone with a child, abruptly changed her tone. She was still gushing platitudes in a kid-friendly voice when the paramedics arrived.

Shawn squeezed into the back of the ambulance, Gus promising to be right behind.

As the ambulance peeled away, sirens blaring, Gus leaned over and buckled in Liam.

"Grandpa's going to be okay," Gus told him. He closed Liam's door.

"I know," Liam said quietly as Gus opened the driver's door. Gus didn't hear him.

Juliet knocked on the door even though it was open. Gus, awkwardly asleep in a chair in the corner of the room, didn't stir.

Shawn looked up from his uncomfortable lounging in the chair next to the hospital bed. Liam was sleeping wedged between Shawn and the chair, tucked safely under his father's arm.

"Hey," Juliet greeted quietly. Shawn swallowed.

"Hey," he whispered back. His voice was rough from lack of use and unshed tears. She hurried to his side and since he wasn't in a position to stand she grabbed his hand and squeezed it comfortingly.

"Lassiter wanted to come, but he had to stay," she spoke quietly, as if afraid of disrupting the nighttime rhythm of beeping and whirring machines. She had yet to pluck up the courage to look at her father-in-law.

Shawn nodded or maybe just moved his head slightly to stretch his neck.

"How is he?" she asked, finally casting her eyes on the sleeping man in the bed.

"He's going to be fine," Shawn told her. "The doctors expect him to make a full recovery. They said… they said if he would have gone without treatment another few minutes he would have been gone."

Juliet let the words sink in and felt a wave of thanksgiving wash over her. Thank God they found him in time. Thank God Henry was alive.

"Thank God," Juliet managed to say. She sank onto the arm of Shawn's chair.

"Thank Liam," Shawn added, his voice still husky. Juliet angled her head to look at him.

"Liam?" she asked curiously. "What do you mean?"

"I don't even know," Shawn said softly before meeting her gaze. "Jules, it was the weirdest thing I've ever seen, and that's saying a lot coming from me."

Despite herself, Juliet let out a tiny snort.

"Liam, he… he was climbing on Henry's stool, to get back in his chair, but he just froze. His hands were on the stool and he started crying. Not sobbing or screaming, just quiet tears. And then he said, 'Help Grandpa.' He kept saying it. When I called Dad and didn't get an answer we rushed over there and found him just in time. If we hadn't… if we had waited until tomorrow…"

Shawn trailed off with a barely perceptible shudder. Juliet rubbed his shoulder with her free hand.

"But you didn't wait and Henry's going to be all right," she reassured him.

"I know, I know," Shawn took a breath. "What I don't know is how Liam knew."

They both turned their attention to Liam, still asleep in the sheltered nook between Shawn and the arm of the chair.

"Do you think…" Juliet started, almost unwilling to put voice to the niggling thought she'd had ever since that day in the car. "Do you think our son is actually psychic?"

Shawn thought for a moment. He didn't. It couldn't be true. Despite his current line of work, Shawn didn't believe in psychics.

Yet the evidence seemed to point in that unlikely direction. "Against all logic and reason, it would certainly appear that way."

For a moment, they sat in the mechanical hush of medical equipment hard at work and quiet snores from Gus.

"What do we do?" Juliet wondered aloud.

Shawn brushed a lock of hair off his son's forehead. "Take notes?" he suggested.


	4. Chapter 4

Even though I want to get back to the undercover wedding planner story, I think I'll need to finish this one first. It just won't leave me be!

Nothing particularly spoilerish about this one, just vague references.

* * *

Liam had only been in preschool for a month and a half and yet Shawn and Juliet had been summoned to the school four times.

The first incident had been simple enough – Liam got his energy levels from his father, after all, and the helpful young teacher was worried he might have had undiagnosed ADHD. Juliet had been unable to break from the case she was on, and so Shawn had dragged Gus to the school to sit through the friendly lecture. Shawn politely told them he'd think about it and then promptly took Liam (and Gus) for ice cream in the park.

The second problem was a little trickier. Genetics, growing up in the Psych office and the police department, and his grandfather's secret games had all conspired against Liam. His seemingly obsessive observational skills had triggered the concerned teacher's autism alarm. After a lengthy discussion with both parents, the rest of Liam's second week of school managed to conclude without further incident.

The third time Shawn and Juliet were called to the school, Shawn joked that they should get a special parking spot.

The teacher had "caught" Liam cheating.

"It's preschool," Shawn had exclaimed. "What - did he copy someone's drawing of a duck?"

"It's circumstantial evidence," Juliet had declared. Just because their son had finished tasks before they had been assigned didn't make him a cheat.

The teacher also complained that Liam sometimes repeated what she said as she said it, or actually, as it would appear, before she had said it.

"If it's before, it's not repeating," Shawn had defended. "Maybe 'pre'-peating."

Either way, the teacher suggested Liam might be better suited for a different school.

It had been a month and Liam was already on probation. Shawn was torn between feelings of pride and frustration.

The fourth visit to the school came about because of a series of rather disturbing drawings by their already infamous four year old.

The portfolio featured several surprisingly well done crayon drawings ('He gets that from his father,' Juliet decided, thinking of her poor doodles), all depicting various gruesome scenes.

They recognized some of the murders, and Juliet realized with alarm that she and Shawn probably needed to cut down on the shop talk at home.

There were three drawings that weren't familiar to either parent: a redheaded family of three with a yellow dog outside a blue house, all with red x's where their eyes should have been; a girl with curly brown hair lying in a pile of multi-colored leaves under a bare tree, her eyes red x's;, and the coup de grâce – a picture of the classroom they had visited so many times, complete with red x-eyed children and a gun-toting adult sporting a black shirt with red and blue stripes on it.

This was the picture they found the most alarming – obviously, as Juliet herself had felt a shiver upon seeing it.

Yes, they were stick figure drawings by a four year old, but the school had a zero tolerance policy.

Shawn didn't seem to grasp the severity of the situation. He held the picture up to his face, studying it intently. "I've seen this guy before," he said.

Juliet glanced at him incredulously before turning to accept the principal's concern and suggestions for counseling.

Principal Hollen handed them Liam's drawings and they shook hands. Shawn collected Liam from the spot across the room where he'd been playing, oblivious to the trouble he had caused.

Thursdays meant dinner at Henry's, and just because their son had been expelled from preschool didn't mean they were about to change their plans.

The chicken casserole was already in the oven, and Juliet was grateful for the presence of the elder Spencer. He'd know what to do. He'd have to, because she and Shawn were lost.

After a hug and kiss hello, Liam immediately sped off and plopped himself in front of Henry's television. The three adults could hear the cartoons as they headed to the kitchen.

"You know," Shawn suggested semi-earnestly as he started chopping lettuce for the salad. "I could always teach him."

He was more than a little offended when both his wife and his father laughed so heartily. Liam also laughed, but Shawn was pretty sure it was at the cartoons. At least he hoped it was.

The laughter died down and Shawn scowled as he continued to prepare the salad.

Juliet dug through her purse and handed the pictures to Henry, then turned to start setting the table.

Henry examined the drawings.

"Okay, so you wouldn't exactly hang them on the fridge," he joked. "But I don't see why they kicked the poor boy out of school."

He flipped to the last one.

"Oh."

Henry studied the drawing briefly and looked up. "Have you asked him about them?"

Shawn scoffed. "We haven't had a chance to have that fun conversation yet."

Henry shook his head in disbelief. "Liam!" he called.

Liam came running into the kitchen and skidded to a half next to Henry's chair.

"Yes, Grandpa?"

"Have a seat, kiddo."

Liam climbed into the dining chair next to him. "Are we gonna count the hats?" he asked innocently.

Shawn's eyes widened and he turned to his father, pointing the tip of the lettuce knife at him. "Dad! You promised no more games! He's my son, remember?"

Henry ignored him, his attention solely on his grandson. He picked up the picture of the family and showed it to Liam.

"Liam, can you tell me who these people are?"

Liam shrugged and stared at the ground. Juliet recognized the stance and reached a hand out to rub her son's arm reassuringly.

"Liam, sweetie, you're not in trouble. We just want to talk to you about your drawings."

At the sound of his mother's calming tone, Liam looked up at her, then Henry, and then the picture. Shawn stopped with the lettuce and watched. He was holding his breath without realizing it.

"That's Katie," Liam said, pointing to the girl with the certainty of someone looking at a photograph of their best friend. "And that's her mommy and daddy and her puppy Dexter."

Henry's voice took on a soothing quality Shawn associated more with his mom and her psychological evals. "Does Katie go to your school?"

"No."

"Do you know where she lives?"

"No."

Henry was undeterred. "And what are they doing?"

Liam searched Henry's face, clearly unsure what to say.

"Are they sleeping?" Juliet asked.

Liam solemnly shook his head no. Henry shifted slightly.

"Are they okay? Do they need a doctor?"

Liam wiped his nose on his sleeve thoughtfully. "Maybe."

"Did somebody hurt them?"

"This is – stop!" Shawn reached over and yanked the pictures from Henry's grasp. "Stop it, okay? You can't do this to him. He's just a baby."

Liam was offended. "I am not a baby!" he yelled at Shawn. "I am four years old!"

Shawn took a breath. He could feel everyone's eyes on him. "I'm sorry, Liam," he apologized, defeat edging into his voice. "You're not a baby."

Liam seemed to accept the apology. "I'm a big boy," he added sullenly.

"You're a big boy," Shawn acknowledged, turning his back to them.

Juliet eyed Shawn's hunched back and stood up. "Let's go wash up for dinner," she told Liam, helping him hop down.

When they were safely out of hearing range, Shawn spun around again and smacked his father's arm. "What are you doing?"

Henry wasn't intimidated. "Shawn, someone has to talk to him. Whatever's going on in his little head isn't going to just go away on its own."

Shawn placed the finished salad on the table with quite a bit of force. A few stray pieces of lettuce leaped to freedom on the table.

"He'll be fine," he insisted through clenched teeth.

Henry eyed him, and even Shawn was surprised at the strength of his own unease.

"Is he still sleeping with you two every night?"

Shawn groaned. "Dad, this is not about-"

"I'll take that as a yes," Henry interrupted.

"Liam will be fine," Shawn reiterated quickly. "He'll be fine."

"You don't know that, Shawn," Henry's gentle words were less than comforting. Especially because Shawn knew they were true.

Juliet and Liam returned, and Henry decided to drop it for now. He was no doubt going to be playing babysitter more than usual until they found Liam a new preschool; he would wait until they were alone to question him further. Just because his son was being bullheaded didn't mean his grandson had to suffer.

Henry got to his feet with a grunt and took the chicken casserole out of the oven. Juliet asked Liam about the cartoons he'd been watching and soon the uneasy tension had mostly dissipated.

Shawn was halfway through the produce aisle when it struck him. He knew he'd seen that man before, and his brain had finally caught up with the rest of him.

Charging Liam with the task of picking the two best pineapples, Shawn flipped open his phone and rang Juliet.

"Hi, Shawn. How'd you know I just went on lunch?"

"I didn't," he answered honestly. "Listen, Jules, I just realized where I recognized that guy in Liam's drawing. You know, the one with the gun?"

"Yeah?" Juliet's said around a mouthful of a turkey avocado wrap.

"He's one of the dads at the school. I saw him there at the open house."

Liam offered one pineapple to Shawn, who examined it with a well-honed eye. He shook his head and Liam put it back on the display.

"Okay. But what does that mean?"

"I don't know. Wasn't he the one going through the messy divorce?"

Juliet took a swig of water. "Shawn, there are six grades of students there. I bet half of the parents in the school are going through a messy divorce."

"Yeah, but I'm pretty sure this guy is one of them."

"Are you 'pretty sure' of his name?" Juliet liked to tease her husband whenever possible, but this time she was simply being honest. "Because I don't think we can start questioning possibly-divorcing parents without just cause."

Shawn gave Liam a thumbs-up at his next pineapple choice. Liam happily plopped it in the shopping cart.

"No, I don't have a name," Shawn admitted. "Go ahead and finish your lunch. I'll call you later."

"Okay. Love you."

"Love you, too."

Shawn flipped his phone closed, his mind no longer on the task at hand. Liam proffered another pineapple selection.

"That looks good, buddy," Shawn said distractedly. He stared down at the list in his hand. They didn't have much more to get. They would finish up here, take the groceries home, and then call Gus and meet up at the Psych office to begin some investigating. Something wasn't right, and Shawn needed to figure it out before it was too late.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

This story is getting out of hand! I have no idea where it's going anymore. Honestly, these scenes popped up out of nowhere. Originally, Shawn and Gus and Liam weren't even involved. I'm just along for the ride.

Shots fired at Woodland Valley Elementary.

Information was coming in bits and pieces. The shooter had taken down a security guard and appeared to be holding a classroom hostage. Some witnesses heard two shots, some heard as many as five. Some students had been evacuated; most were still trapped inside.

Juliet's stomach churned slowly as Lassiter sped to the scene.

It didn't take long to established a command center. The hostage negotiator was already on his way.

Juliet could hear Lassiter discussing something with a cluster of other police officers. She could hear him, but she wasn't listening.

Her mind was on the drawing in her bag.

Hands shaking, she unzipped her purse and pulled out the picture. The construction paper was already fraying at the edges. She unfolded it carefully, her eyes poring over every streak of colorful wax.

At last she found her voice.

"Lassiter!" she waved the paper wildly. "Look at this."

"O'Hara, this is neither the time nor the place to brag about your kid's crayon techniques. Would you get your head in the game before-"

The head detective grabbed the picture from her hands, his hard blue-gray eyes examining her and then settling on the drawing.

"Where did you get this?" he demanded.

"Liam drew it."

Lassiter rubbed his free hand over the lower half of his face. "Witnesses said the shooter was wearing a black shirt with blue and red stripes," he told her.

Juliet glanced at the drawing, still in Lassiter's iron grip. She felt an almost peaceful sense of certainty wash over her. It was more than deductive reasoning, it was more than a hunch, and even though she wasn't the psychic she knew. She understood.

"He's in Liam's room," she said.

She pointed to the room on the blueprint of the school and the cops began to form their battle plan.

"Do you think I'll be able to get back to my route anytime soon?" Gus asked quietly as he stuck the name badge sticker on his shirt.

"Do you think you'll be able to stop whining for two seconds?" Shawn teased, slapping his sticker on the front pocket of his jeans and handing the remaining sticker to Liam. Liam glanced at his dad before applying his sticker on the front pocket of his own jeans. He beamed proudly at Shawn, who reached for his hand with a smile.

Since they didn't have a name, it had been surprisingly difficult to obtain any information at all on their purported suspect through their usual routes. Neither Google nor Wikipedia provided any help, but perhaps that was the fault of their incredibly vague keywords. Either way, they had gotten nowhere.

"I can't believe they're making him wear a sticker, too," Gus nodded to Liam as the three of them walked through the administration office and into the bowels of the school.

"Well, Gus, given what we saw in that drawing, it might not be a bad idea to tighten up the security here."

Out of experience, Shawn and Liam took a quick left and Gus almost lost them. He had to double back and jog for a few seconds to catch up.

"What makes you think Liam's old teacher is going to tell you anything about this black shirt guy? She's probably glad to be rid of you."

"Gus, first of all, a little kindness in front of the kiddo, okay? Teachers love Spencers, right, Liam?"

Liam looked up dubiously at Shawn.

"Okay, so not all teachers. But I don't need to speak to the teacher; I need to speak to the teacher's records."

"'Speak' to records, Shawn? Really?"

"I'll let you know that-"

"Daddy, I have to go to the bathroom," Liam interrupted. Shawn stopped mid-stride and looked around. There wasn't a bathroom in sight, but both Shawn and Liam knew there was one around the corner to the right.

"Liam, can't you hold it?" Shawn's eyes fell on the large clock mounted by the nearest classroom door. "We're almost there and we don't have much time before recess."

One look at Liam's scrunched up face and urgently jiggling legs and Shawn sighed.

"Come on," he told Gus, gesturing towards the far end of the hall. They rounded the corner and stepped into the empty bathroom.

Liam quickly went to work on his zipper, hopping around frantically but refusing help from his father. Shawn hoped he made it in time; Gus wasn't too keen on urine-soaked pants sitting in the back of his car.

Gus stared in amusement at the low urinals and tiny toilets. "Look how small this all is. It's adorable."

Shawn noticed with relief that Liam had conquered both the button and the zipper in time. He turned his attention to Gus, who was admiring the placement of the paper towel dispenser. "Only you could find a boy's bathroom adorable, Gus," he joked.

"It's like we're giants," Gus noted, ignoring his best friend's jibe. "It's like reverse Jack and the Beanstalk."

Liam waddled over to the sink to wash his hands.

"I don't want to know what the magic beans would be in that analog-"

BANG.

Shawn and Gus's eyes grew wide. Shawn instinctively reached out for Liam's hand, which was still wet with soap.

"Was that-?"

He was interrupted by the sound of another gunshot. And another.

Both adults now ducking, Shawn grabbed Liam close.

"We're too late," Gus whispered.

"No we're not," Shawn hissed back. He hobbled over to the door, maneuvering Liam between himself and Gus. Shawn took a steadying breath and slowly reached a hand out to open the door a crack.

He stuck his head tentatively out into the hallway, looking first right and then left.

The gunman was there, down and across the hall, standing and facing the classroom door. Shawn instantly identified the shirt, the gun, even the hairdo from Liam's drawing, and he didn't need the drawing or even his perfect memory of it to realize with a sinking feeling which classroom it was. He'd been there frequently enough to know.

The door opened, and the gunman entered. Children screamed briefly, startled and scared, and then the door closed. The wing of the school plunged back into an eerie silence.

Shawn ducked his head back inside.

"Could you see anything?" Gus asked anxiously.

Shawn looked down at Liam's worried expression and shook his head. "No."

He wondered if Liam could.

"Well, what do we do?" Gus wanted to know, trying to stretch out an already cramping leg muscle while still crouching. Under normal circumstances the sight would have made Shawn laugh.

"Jules! I'll call Jules!" Shawn slapped his forehead with an open palm at the realization.

Shawn slipped the phone out of his pocket. As it connected, he backed up against the door and sank to his butt. His knees weren't as young as they used to be and he was going to pay for the extended squats.

Gus saw him and mirrored the movement, idly rubbing at his sore leg as his bottom made contact with the tile.

Juliet's cell was still ringing, which was highly unlike her. When it switched over to voicemail he snapped the phone shut in frustration.

What was he supposed to do?

Shawn looked up and realized Liam was watching him with those serious little blue-green eyes.

Jesus. Nobody said fatherhood was this hard... well, actually, Henry had mentioned that several dozen times before they'd even found out about the pregnancy, but still. There should've been more warning, more how-to bestsellers and classes at the community center.

Where's the advice for when you're stuck in a boy's bathroom with your probably psychic preschooler, a best friend with a charley horse, a psychotic shooter down the hall with innocent lives at stake and a cop wife who won't answer her damn phone?

'I didn't ask for nutshelling!' he mentally snapped at his brain.

Shawn handed the phone to Liam. "Here, buddy. Keep trying to get Mommy on her cell phone."

Liam nodded solemnly and took his dad's phone, having long ago become a cell phone expert.

Shawn climbed to his feet with a slight, involuntary groan and motioned for Gus to join him in the far corner of the bathroom. As Gus struggled to an upright position, Shawn contemplated going into one of the stalls for added privacy but realized how ridiculous it was, on so many levels.

Gus finally joined his side, and Shawn whispered urgently.

"I saw the gunman go into Liam's old room."

Gus's eyes widened. "Was it the guy from the picture?"

"Same guy. What do we do?"

Gus's expression told him it should be obvious. "Call the police and stay put."

"Jules isn't answering!"

"So call 9-1-1! Shawn, that guy has a gun. You can't just barge in there!"

It was getting harder and harder to whisper. "I can't just hide out in the little boys' room when those kids are in danger." Before Gus could counter, Shawn added in a hiss, "Liam could have been in there."

Gus knew his best friend well enough to recognize the look in his eyes. If Gus didn't at least come up with a plan, Shawn would just wing it – on his own – and, like so many trips to Mexico, the hostage situation wouldn't likely have a happy ending.

With a long-suffering sigh, Gus relented. "Fine. But we're not going in there without a plan."

Shawn nodded his consent. "Fine. We'll call 9-1-1, tell Liam to hide in this stall, and go try to ambush the gunman," Shawn clapped his hands once. "Simple."

"How are we going to ambush the gunman? We're not armed."

Shawn closed his eyes and pushed away the image of the children with red-x eyes long enough to recreate the hall in his mind.

"The fire extinguisher!" he declared.

Gus acknowledged that that was probably as good as it was going to get.

"Okay. And then we'll both try to calm him down and disarm him?"

"Sure," Shawn agreed quickly. "Can we go now?"

"Yeah."

"Liam, can I have the pho-"

They turned around and froze.

Liam wasn't in the bathroom.

Gus quickly checked the stalls, but there was no trace of the small boy,. Shawn, thawing from his initial crippling shock, stepped over, bent low, and opened the bathroom door.

Liam wasn't in the hallway either.

Shit.

Shawn could really use that advice now.


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks for waiting so patiently. I'd like to introduce you to SuperLiam. :-) But he'll be more of a normal kid in the next chapter.

Also, there's a spoiler for the third season overview, but the episode hasn't even aired yet.

* * *

"You don't think he went into the room, do you?" Shawn tried to keep the fear out of his voice.

"Not to be too callous at a moment like this, but he's your son; of course he went in there!"

Shawn didn't have time to glare at him. "Do you have your phone?"

"Yes."

"Call him. Call my phone."

Gus started to dial but stopped before he'd finished. "Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

"What if it sets the guy off?"

Shawn turned around disgustedly. Gus did have a point. He pounded the wall with his fist which, while not productive, at least gave his mind something else to think about.

Cradling his throbbing hand, Shawn spun back to face Gus. "Try Jules. Try Lassie. Then call 9-1-1. I'm going in there."

Gus knew that, short of physically tackling him, he couldn't stop Shawn; so he did as he was told. With the phone pressed to his ear, he said a silent prayer as he watched Shawn leave the safety of the bathroom.

It took more effort than Shawn realized to pry the fire extinguisher from its mount on the wall. Once ludicrously armed, he began tiptoeing towards the classroom.

A glance at the clock confirmed his worst suspicions – the bell was going to ring in five minutes.

He had five minutes to try to defuse the situation before the inevitable sea of children became an open target.

As he tip-toed, half bent and grateful his sneakers weren't squeaking on the floor, Shawn tried desperately to remember the hostage negotiation techniques his father had taught him – and the lessons he'd learned from that time Gus was held up in that bank. Not much came to mind, at least nothing helpful, but he didn't much care. All he wanted to do was save Liam and save those kids. If he happened to get shot in the process – well, it'd be long overdue.

The only window he could see into was on the door, and from his angle he only saw the back wall.

Shawn stepped closer, his breath hitching as he raised his weapon in preparation.

At least he had the element of surprise. Hopefully that would work in his favor.

Just as he was about to grasp the door knob, Shawn saw a SWAT team round a corner. They stopped, mid-formation, guns raised and pointed at Shawn.

Shawn lifted his fire extinguisher in what he hoped was a non-threatening manner and made several gestures that would have lost him a game of charades.

The SWAT team leader, who knew of Shawn through his connection with the police department, was still considering this latest development when the door opened. Shawn leapt backwards in surprise, tripping over himself.

Liam calmly emerged from the room, gingerly holding the gun in his two hands.

Shawn choked on his saliva.

The SWAT team advanced and Shawn snatched the gun from his son, holding it handle out to the approaching police force. Once relieved of the weapon, Shawn bent down and grabbed Liam, crushing him in a fierce and purposefully restrictive hug as he collapsed against the lockers.

Liam said nothing but did wheeze slightly as his lungs struggled to expand against his father's grip.

Shawn could hear crying and realized with some alarm that it wasn't only coming from him. As the SWAT team entered the classroom, Shawn turned and saw that all the children were sitting at their desks, crying but uninjured. The teacher wasn't immediately visible and Shawn tried not to think why. One child at the front was hugging his sobbing father/gunman.

His mind boggled, as did presumably those of the SWAT team trying to assess the situation.

Shawn had only slightly eased his grip on his son – more so for breathing purposes than anything else – when the bell rang.

No one left their classrooms, but Gus poked his head out of the bathroom as the ringing ended.

Shawn spotted him and got to his feet, Liam still pressed against his chest.

"What happened?" Gus asked, his cell phone still at his ear. Though still a good three feet away, Shawn could detect the unmistakably raised voice of his wife through the receiver.

Before he could answer Gus's question, he heard heels cracking sharply down the corridor and suddenly the phone call was in decidedly one-sided stereo.

Shawn expected some kind of yelling or hitting or, at the very least, an admonishment of sorts. Instead, Juliet instead launched herself on her husband and son, the three of them enveloped in a tight hug that lasted almost as long as it took for the rest of the children to be evacuated from the school.

"Do I need to put him on the payroll, too?" Chief Vick joked, nodding to Liam who sat in Juliet's lap, quietly playing with the Chief's beloved glass fish.

"I'm not up to date on the child labor laws," Shawn attempted a joke but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Vick directed her gaze at her two detectives and the two consultants. Thanks to their hard work in the field, the shooter had been apprehended before anyone else was injured, and although the security guard and the teacher were still in critical condition and the children were in counseling, everyone was still alive.

"Good work, you two," Vick turned to Liam. "And good work to you, too, Liam."

At the sound of his name, Liam looked up, almost losing his grip on the glass fish. Juliet deftly caught it and returned it to the safety of the Chief's desk, much to Liam's dismay.

"The school wants us to investigate given the... unusual nature of Liam's drawing and yesterday's events."

"Wait a minute – the school thinks Liam had something to do with this?" The higher register of Juliet's voice suggested the sheer preposterousness of the allegation.

Chief Vick sighed and leaned back in her chair which emitted a small, leathery squeak of protest. "The school doesn't know what to think," she paused. "Detective Lassiter, you're been awfully quiet on the subject."

The Chief's query prodded Lassiter out of his thoughts. "I'd prefer not to get involved," he declared.

"I'd _prefer_ your opinion."

Momentarily chastised, Lassiter was unsure what to say. Spencer was always a bit of an enigma, but now that Junior was demonstrating the same... skill, without any of his father's needy showiness, well, Lassiter was at a loss.

How had a four year old drawn a crime scene before it was a crime scene? Why, when he should have known better, had Lassiter believed him? And how, most importantly, had the boy saved the day?

Psychics didn't really exist, and just like contemplating the time travel paradox, it hurt his brain to think about it too much.

"I don't know," Lassiter said ultimately, releasing a contemplative breath. "Obviously a preschooler under constant supervision couldn't have been involved with a divorcing father's psychotic gun-wielding breakdown, so... it must just be a coincidence."

Even as he said it, Lassiter knew it wasn't true.

The Chief didn't believe the coincidence angle either but couldn't find any other acceptable alternatives. Either it was a coincidence or Liam Spencer was a pint-sized psychic... and a hostage negotiator to boot.

Although the school board wasn't going to like her conclusion, the former option allowed them to protect the preschooler and sweep as much of his involvement under the rug as possible... at least for now.

"Chief," Shawn spoke up hesitantly. "Is it okay if we go? Liam's had quite a day."

The Chief's curt wave announced their dismissal, but as they stood she cleared her throat, an idea ticking the back of her thoughts.

"I'm sorry – before you go – you said there were _three_ drawings?"

Shawn froze. He looked at Juliet and their eyes held a fast, private, heated conversation. Eventually, Liam wiggled free from Juliet's hold and they broke eye contact.

Liam wandered over to his father's side as Juliet reached into her purse, pulled out the other two drawings, and handed them across the desk.

Chief Vick eyed them first as a mother – purely out of habit, for Iris had been an avid drawer for years – and then as the Chief of Police.

"Do you recognize these – " she hesitated over the word 'victims.' "- people?"

Shawn was helping Liam tie his shoe, leaving the two detectives to respond.

"No, Chief. We went over all the recent cases."

"Shawn and I went over our cases, too," Gus piped up helpfully.

"They don't appear to be victims of anything," Lassiter determined.

Chief Vick swallowed. She'd learned long ago to follow her instincts, however unlikely. "I want you guys to follow up on this."

"It's a wild goose chase!"

"Yeah," Chief Vick agreed softly. "But if we can save a few geese..."


	7. Chapter 7

Okay, this took a relative FOREVER to come out. Until now, I was just writing by the seat of my pants (as usual) and didn't have a plan. But now, after much deliberation, I do have a plan. It has changed several times. We'll see if I stick to this new one. In the meantime, here's some more story - just in time for me to go on vacation! :-)

* * *

Shawn and Juliet were seated side-by-side on a park bench as they watched Liam play in the sand with three other little kids.

Shawn sighed. After weeks of "investigating" Liam's possibly prophetic sketches, they were no closer to finding any potential victims.

They hadn't had any luck with a new preschool, either.

In the meantime, Liam's sleeping habits had grown worse than ever. Shawn and Juliet pretty much gave up on having their bed back anytime soon, and Liam's pillow, blankie, and teddy bear were now included every time they made the bed.

Shawn didn't mind Liam sleeping safely between them. Although he would prefer some alone time with his wife – would certainly require it in the not-too-distant future – having Liam nearby ensured that they didn't have to get out of bed when he inevitably woke up sobbing.

Whenever Shawn thought about it he felt sick, and, no matter how hard he tried, Shawn could think of nothing else. He was supposed to be the only psychic in the family, and the great thing about being a fake psychic was that it wasn't real.

Shawn could sleep soundly at night, or at least he used to, because terrifying visions didn't invade _his_ dreams. Ghosts and possibilities didn't plague _his_ playtime. When Shawn drew with Liam it was motorcycles and dinosaurs and pineapples on the beach... mindless coloring fodder. But when Liam drew it was death and murder and violence.

As much as Liam was like Shawn, ultimately he wasn't, and that terrified Shawn the most. Shawn could protect him from crossing the street in front of a speeding car or putting something in an electrical socket, but this whole psychic thing was annoyingly out of his scope. How could Shawn protect his son from the bad guys when he couldn't even see them? When _no one_ could see them? He was failing his son just when he needed him the most.

Shawn snapped out his reverie long enough to notice Juliet was now mediating a sand shovel-fueled argument between Liam and a little girl in a Dora the Explorer shirt.

Liam had a fit, and Juliet grabbed his arm, sternly lecturing him as she pulled the scowling boy in Shawn's direction.

"I don't have to share," Liam was whining. "It was _my_ turn to shovel."

"Liam, sharing is important. You have to learn to take turns."

They arrived at the bench.

"I don't like her," Liam scowled, tugging his hand free of Juliet in order to cross his arms over his shirt and glare in Dora's direction.

Looking at Liam's defiant, scrunched-up face, Shawn almost laughed.

"Let's get going," he decided, standing. He and Juliet began to walk but when Liam made no effort to move, Shawn doubled back.

"Come on, Liam."

Arms still crossed, he jutted his chin out with determination.

"No."

"Liam..."

"No."

"Liam, walk!"

"No!"

As frustrated as he was, a part of Shawn was pleased because it was moments like these that reminded him that Liam was – at least partly – a normal boy. That he was the child his father had gleefully warned him he'd have.

Shawn lifted the child up over his shoulder.

"Put me down!" Liam screeched.

"No," Shawn mimicked Liam's previous broken-record response, continuing to walk beside a smirking Juliet. He held on tight as Liam began to kick.

"Hey!" he barked in his best Dad Voice, the one that sounded scarily like his father's. "You better stop kicking, mister, or you're spending the night in your room."

Liam paused, momentarily considering his options.

Shawn gave Jules a triumphant look, but his smile slowly faded as Liam began kicking yet again.

Because of the miniature feet pounding at his side and the wails of protest emanating from the boy slung over his shoulder, Shawn wasn't sure but thought he saw, out of the corner of his eye, a Golden Retriever run up to the Dora girl and lick her face.

By the time he managed to turn around, the girl and the dog were nowhere in sight.

The hairs on the back of his neck raised, but Shawn couldn't be sure if it was because of the girl or because Liam was now pulling his hair.

They finally reached the car and Shawn buckled in a now-crying Liam then closed the door.

"Jules, I know this is going to sound crazy, but I think that the girl that took Liam's shovel is the girl from his drawing."

Juliet looked up and narrowed her eyes, trying to look behind Shawn. "Really? Is she still there?"

Shawn shook his head. "No, but they have a dog so they probably parked by the dog trail. We might be able to catch them."

Juliet nodded and they both hurried into the car, buckling their seatbelts and ignoring the whimpers from their upset and overtired offspring in the backseat.

Juliet sped the car around the park and over to the lot near the dog trail. As they pulled up a man was shepherding a Golden Retriever into a white minivan.

A quick look had confirmed what Shawn had suspected- the Dora girl and the mom were already in the car. All three of them sported red hair a shade darker than in Liam's depiction.

"What do we do? I don't particularly want to go up to them and show the drawing of their death," Juliet mused. "Even with my badge they'll think I'm insane. And what if it's the wrong family?"

Shawn waved off her questions as the minivan started its engine. "It's not the wrong family. Follow them."

Juliet tailed the minivan as it exited the parking lot.

"So we follow them home. And then what?" she asked.

"I don't know," Shawn admitted. Honestly, none of them had ever thought that far ahead. Sure, they'd spent the past few weeks hunting for this mysterious and possibly doomed family, but they'd never discussed what they would do if they ever found them. Knowing they were in trouble was only a fraction of the solution. Convincing them of the danger and somehow preventing it, well, that was going to be the challenge.

There were no dates on Liam's drawings. They could happen in days, or weeks, or maybe even years. It was also entirely possible that they might never happen.

Although, given his recent track record, that wasn't very likely.

Juliet turned into a subdivision, still following the van. She lagged far enough behind that they lost them in the confusing twists and turns of identical houses. But a systematic search up one road and down the next eventually revealed the empty minivan parked in the driveway of a blue house.

"Now what?" Jules whispered, eyeing a drowsy Liam through the rear view mirror.

Shawn glanced behind him at their son before looking across the street at the potential victims' house.

"Feel like a good old-fashioned stakeout?"

"I'm hungry," Liam whined from the back seat.

Jules looked over at Shawn. "I am, too," she told him quietly.

Shawn glanced at the house across the street. They had been there nearly two hours and, aside from the father's brief trip to the mailbox and back, there hadn't been any noticeable movement.

Shawn didn't want to give up, but his traitorous stomach started growling at the mere mention of food.

"All right, we'll go get some dinner," he declared, wondering what it would take to convince Gus to give up his Saturday night for a stakeout.

Since his girlfriend was out of town, it turned out it didn't take much to convince Gus: just some jerk chicken, a milkshake, and sole control of the radio.

Gus slurped on his chocolate shake and shifted in his seat. "I still think it's wrong to bring your son on a stakeout."

Shawn glanced in the rear view mirror at Liam, asleep in the back seat. "He's a pro at stakeouts. All you have to do is put that little DVD player on and he's set for days."

Gus looked over at the darkened house, merely an outline in the shadows of the suburban subdivision's streetlights. "Did you tell Lassiter?"

"Of course! Jules and Lassiter both know we're here. Do you think I'm that irresponsible?"

Gus's wide grin gleamed, even in the dark car.

"Give me a little credit, Gus. They know we're here. The Chief knows, too. Jules would be here herself if they weren't working that Lawson case."

"The Lawson case? Is that the arson one?"

"Yeah. Lawson arson. Say that one five times fast."

Gus looked at him. Clearly he wasn't going to be saying anything five times fast. Shawn continued with a dramatic sigh. "Anyway, the Chief said they don't need our help on it, but I plan on convincing her otherwise in a few days."

"Before rent is due?"

"You know it."

They settled into a silence broken only by the occasional strained slurping of a thick milkshake.

"Did the Chief say what to do?" Gus wondered.

"What to do about what?" Shawn asked, futilely adjusting the binoculars. "Dude, we seriously need to invest in some night vision goggles."

"If we see something," Gus explained, ignoring Shawn. "What are we supposed to do?"

Shawn rolled his eyes and begin to recite, counting on his fingers. "Call for back-up. Do not get out of the car. Tail them if and only if the bad guys try to escape before any black and whites show up."

Gus looked warily over at Shawn. "So, in other words, we don't do anything."

"Nothing dangerous," Shawn said solemnly. "Nothing fun."

"Yeah, somehow I doubt that'll be the case."

"Aw, Gus. I'm flattered. We _do_ have fun, don't we?"

Now it was Gus's turn to roll his eyes. "I meant the 'nothing dangerous' part. Did you see how much our insurance went up this year?"

"You accidentally set _one_ little fire..."

"Shawn, you nearly burned down the whole office block!"

"It's not my fault the -"

Behind them, Liam stirred. Shawn lowered his voice.

"It's not my fault the fire extinguisher was empty!" he hissed.

"Maybe, maybe not, but it wouldn't have been an issue if you hadn't been playing with matches in the first place!"

"I wasn't playing with matches, Gus. I was constructing a matchstick house which, in hindsight, shouldn't have been so close to the candle for your satsuma scented oils."

"_My_ scented oils? I'm not the one with the Body Shop loyalty card."

"Touché. But can we at least agree that the office smells nice?"

"Yeah, once the firefighters left."

A movement across the street caught their attention. Shawn tensed, his eyes straining to see clearly through the inferior binoculars. Gus leaned forward, his sights trained on the house they'd been watching for hours. Neither one breathed.

A long moment later, Shawn laughed.

Gus craned his neck and saw Shawn dropping the binoculars into his lap and leaning back in the seat.

"What?"

"It's embarrassing, dude."

"What?"

Shawn handed Gus the binoculars. "Have a good look at our culprit."

Curious, Gus took them and adjusted them as best he could. "What is that?"

Shawn ran a hand through his hair. "A raccoon."

"A raccoon?"

"Maybe a possum, I don't know. But definitely not a person."

Sure enough, the small creature was prowling through the front yard, heading for the trash can.

"Okay, so we're a little jumpy," Gus decided, placing the binoculars on the dashboard. "I think that can be expected at 1:30 in the morning and after," Gus glanced around him, adding up the garbage at their feet. "Seven cans of Red Bull."

Shawn shook his head. "Gus, I think this is just a waste of time."

"How can you say that? You saw Liam's drawing."

"Yes, I did. But there's no date on it. It could happen any day, any time. Hell, it could happen on their summer vacation. Are we supposed to watch them 24/7? I don't know about you, but I'd like to have a life every so often. And as much as I like peeing in neighbor's shrubs, I wouldn't mind indoor plumbing in the cool of the night."

Gus sighed. "Fine. But what if we go home now and they disappear?"

Shawn glanced over at the house again. Gus was right.

"Fine."

Shawn picked up the binoculars again. "But we're getting night vision goggles for tomorrow."

Gus nodded in agreement. "You know that's right."

They went back to their reluctant surveillance, punctuated by the soft snores from the back seat.

"Twenty questions?" Shawn asked.

"No."

"Even if that counted as one of my questions?"

"No."

"I spy?"

"Shawn."

"That wasn't a no!" he waved his fist triumphantly. "I spy with my little eye something that is shadowy."

"Shadowy is not a col-"

Liam's scream interrupted Gus. In an instant, Shawn opened his door, hopped outside and into the backseat. Liam kept screaming, his eyes half open but definitely not focused. Shawn struggled with undoing the straps from the booster seat as Gus slowly raised his hands to cover his ears.

Shawn snatched Liam out of the seat and carefully got them both outside. Holding him tight, rocking gently as he paced the sidewalk next to the car, Shawn murmured soothingly.

A few lights flicked on in the nearby houses. Liam's desperate screams didn't get any quieter.

Shawn only had one ace up his sleeve; he started singing. Juliet had discovered that singing helped, and one song in particular calmed their son when he had his worst nightmares.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine," Shawn sang quietly. "You make me happy when skies are gray," he continued, getting the distinct impression that it was his wife's comforting voice and not so much the song that quieted Liam. He continued pacing, maneuvering his lips closer to his boy's ears. "You never know, dear, how much I love you."

Liam pulled back slightly from Shawn's grasp. His eyes were red and scared, but fully opened.

Shawn almost cried in relief.

"Please don't take my sunshine away," he finished in a whisper.

"Daddy?" Liam asked, a look of confusion on his tear-streaked face.

"Welcome back, kiddo."

Liam sank back against his chest. "I want to go home," he said into Shawn's shirt.

"We'll go home," Shawn assured, still pacing slowly on the sidewalk. He kept walking until he felt the tension melt from the little body in his arms.

Shawn buckled Liam back in his seat and re-joined a worried Gus in the front.

"I have to take him home," Shawn said quietly.

"I know.".

Shawn started the engine.

"I had no idea it had gotten so bad," Gus commented gently. "Maybe he should see a doctor."

"You think?" Shawn snapped. Shawn and Juliet had discussed the possibility a few times. Although tempted by the prospect of a good night's sleep for all in the Spencer household, they had hesitated in the hopes that it was just a phase. Seeking help from a doctor meant that it wasn't temporary, that he wasn't going to grow out of it; it meant that something might be really and truly wrong with their son.

As the memory of Liam's distant eyes and terrified screams replayed in his mind, Shawn decided that maybe, maybe his father had been right.

"I'm sorry," he apologized to Gus, who waved off the words.

With one last glance at the house, Shawn pulled away.

He didn't see the lone figure peeking out from behind a curtain.

Juliet was worried he was going to start noticing soon.

He was his father's son, after all, and applesauce didn't used to be a daily occurrence. But it'd been going on for a month and so far no questions or complaints.

They'd agonized over it, but after all the doctor's visits and trips to the child psychiatrist and the sleep clinic, it really was the best option. He was sleeping through the night again and that alone was worth it.

Juliet tried not to think of the side effects.

She could have pinpointed the exact moment when the pills started working. She'd picked up Liam from preschool and, as a special treat, the two of them had gotten ice cream cones – with sprinkles, of course – and went for a walk along the beach. Liam loved ice cream, he loved the sand, he loved the ocean; he'd been bouncing with excitement about their unexpected outing.

But he hadn't even gotten through half the sprinkles before it looked like the cone was too heavy for him to hold. His head started rolling forward but he'd catch himself, his dark blond hair swishing with the movements as his neck struggled valiantly to right his head.

It hit him so suddenly that he would have fallen asleep standing up if Juliet hadn't picked him up.

He slept through most of that weekend, but Shawn and Juliet had convinced themselves he was catching up on much-needed rest.

He didn't wake up screaming anymore. Since he'd started his prescription, he had slept soundly and punctually. Every night at almost exactly 8:28 his eyes would start to droop, and every morning he was bounding into their room at 7:00 on the dot.

Juliet was grateful to have her bed back – extremely grateful, actually, and after that one particular night even more grateful than she'd imagined – but she worried that they'd made the wrong choice.

Before she'd had Liam, Juliet hadn't really given the issue much thought. She didn't believe in parents pumping their tiny, developing children full of mind- and mood-altering drugs. But now she wasn't sure.

It couldn't be all bad if it was helping.

Her son needed to sleep. He needed to not be afraid of bedtime, not be afraid of waking up screaming. His lack of sleep made him cranky, and his crankiness made his parents cranky as well.

The doctors hadn't found anything physically wrong with him; his MRI and CAT scans were normal. He'd talked with and described his bad dreams to the psychiatrist, drew more pictures, had his sleeping patterns monitored and examined. The medicine wasn't the best choice; it was the only choice.

It had been a month of hiding pills in applesauce, but also a month of uninterrupted sleep. Juliet told herself it was only temporary. He wouldn't be on the drugs forever. But all three of them were better rested and life wasn't as tense and heartbreaking as it had been.

And after that first weekend, it had gotten better. He could handle the pills. He was still quieter than usual, more withdrawn, but his energy levels were back up and he was laughing and running and smiling.

Liam just wasn't drawing pictures anymore.

His new teacher had mentioned that when it came time for art, he struggled with drawing. She had seen his pictures before, and although not typical coloring subject matters (though less disturbing than his notorious batch), they were detailed and showed creativity.

Lately he could hardly draw a line. When the teacher had given the class thirty minutes to draw their houses, Liam had only managed to draw the outline of a square – he hadn't even colored it in. Most of art time was spent staring at the paper, sometimes even without a crayon in his hand.

Juliet hoped it was a small price to pay.


	8. Chapter 8

I apologize for the delay. Some computer issues, moving, some more computer issues, and a reworking of the story... and now I'm back on track.

* * *

"Dad."

Henry stared at the phone in confusion. He didn't recognize the voice, though obviously there was only one person it could be.

"Shawn?"

"Cab you do be a favor?"

Henry's brow continued to furrow. "What?"

"Jules stayed hobe sick yesterday and dow I'b sick, too. Cab you take-"

A loud cough came down the line, and Henry held the phone away from his ear. When he put it back, Shawn was still talking, "-a little earlier than you were going to? Di don't want him to ged sick, too."

Henry contemplated the mop in his hand. He hadn't cleaned in a while and he wasn't close to being done yet, but Shawn sounded awful.

"Yeah, I'll be right over," Henry told him, walking over to put the mop back in the closet. "Do you think it's just a bug?"

"Di hope doe. Jules deemed to geb bedder bud den she gob worse."

"You don't sound so hot yourself there, kid. Go take a nap. I've just got to wrap the thing for Liam and I'll be over."

"Danks, Dad."

Henry was at the house in no time at all. Shawn hadn't even attempted a nap; he'd been watching Nickelodeon with Liam.

"I've got a surprise for you, kiddo," Henry announced as soon as Shawn opened the door, hiding his hands behind his back.

"Oh, Dad, you shouldn't hab," Shawn said flatly, blowing his nose and wrapping the blanket tighter around himself.

"A surprise?!" Liam asked, scrambling to his feet in excitement. "Is it a puppy??

Henry rolled his eyes. "It's not a puppy. What is it with you two and puppies?"

But Liam had already spotted the prettily-wrapped present still half-hidden behind Henry.

"It's my hat!" he yelped, running up to snatch the gift from Henry's grasp.

Henry glared at Shawn as Liam dropped to the ground to tear into the package. "Why'd you tell him? It was supposed to be a surprise."

"I didn't tell him any-" Shawn paused a barking cough rattled his chest. Once he could breathe again, he continued as if there'd been no interruption. "-thing. It's nob by fault you're predictable."

Liam looked up at Shawn and Henry. The beige fishing hat, dotted with multicolored lures, slid down over his eyes. He reached up to adjust it and, when it immediately covered his eyes again, didn't bother to fix it again.

"Thanks, Grandpa!" he cheered, taking tentative steps towards Henry. When his hands reached the fabric of Henry's pants, he launched himself around the appendage. "Are we going now?" Liam asked, lifting his hat as he looked up at Henry.

Henry glanced at Shawn, who was wiping at his nose with a wad of tissues.

"Yay!" Liam hopped off Henry's leg. "I'll go get packed!" he announced, running towards the stairs.

THUD.

Shawn and Henry turned to see Liam in a pile at the base of the stairs. He took off the hat and got to his feet. "I'm okay!" he called, taking off again.

Shawn shook his head, smiling.

"Like father, like son," Henry commented, straightening his pant leg.

"Really?" Shawn asked. "I don't remember ever being that excited about fishing."

"Maybe if you ever woke up early enough..."

Shawn made the facial equivalent of sticking out his tongue. He sank into the couch where, from the plethora of tissues, cough syrup, throat lozenges, remote controls, pillows, and blankets, it appeared he'd set up shop.

"Do you and Juliet need anything?" Henry asked.

Shawn shrugged. "If you could feed hib, that'd be great. Neither one of is is keeping anything down at the moment, so the idea of having to make Liam dinner is just..."

Henry nodded. "Any news on the Johannsen family?"

"Nothing," Shawn said. "Jules was sick yesterday and today, but Lassie's been keeping us posted. No one's seen them in almost two weeks now. No calls to the hotline, either."

Henry sighed. The SBPD had kept a discreet surveillance on the Johannsen home for as long as they could, but the budget didn't have much room for a 24/7 stakeout of a pre-crime scene. Four days after they'd called it off, the extended family reporting them missing. Neighbors had heard car doors slamming in the middle of the night, but nobody had seen anything. There was no ransom, no forced entry, nothing missing except an entire family and their dog.

"Liam drawing at all?" Henry asked, trying to keep his tone light and genial, as if the two subjects weren't related.

Liam's artistic abilities had been a sensitive subject between the two men, and since Henry was already going fishing tomorrow, he didn't particularly feel like opening that can of worms as well.

Shawn blew his nose again before replying. "I haven't seen him with the crayons."

A crash sounded just above their heads, followed by the unmistakable sound of Legos spilling. Shawn started to get up but Henry raised a hand. "I'll go get him. You just..." Henry made a face as Shawn, for lack of a better word, honked into a tissue. "...stay here."

"Danks," Shawn said dryly, though he was grateful. His nose was so clogged he could barely breathe, and every time he went upstairs to check on Jules or Liam, he felt like he was climbing Everest without oxygen.

Henry left Shawn and slowly ascended the stairs. Liam was Shawn's son, after all, and he had no idea what horrors might await him in the kid's room.

He never expected what he found.

Liam was normally a fairly neat child, but the room was an absolute mess. It put to shame Shawn's old room on its worst day. Clothes and toys were strewn everywhere, including the box of Legos which had fallen off the dresser and scattered pieces into a colorful, plastic minefield.

Henry quickly concluded that the reason the Legos had fallen was that Liam had been moving the dresser.

In fact, Henry's eyes scanned the room with a careful gaze, Liam had been moving all the furniture.

It must have been a while since Shawn last checked on him.

The four year old interior decorator sat in front of the closet. His duffel bag was quickly filling with an assortment of clothing and toys.

"Liam, what the heck are you doing?" Henry asked, more curious than angry.

"Packing," the tot replied simply, his face invisible under the hat.

"I can see that."

Stepping carefully through the wreckage, Henry made it to the race car bed (bought, he could have sworn, more for Shawn's sake than for Liam's). He shoved the clothes and stuffed animals to the foot of the bed and sat in the newly vacated spot. "Do you need help moving the furniture back?"

Liam turned to him, lifting up the hat so he could see him. "No. I can't move it back."

"Why not?"

"I have to make room for Emily."

Liam returned to packing as if the revelation were no big deal. "Who's Emily?"

"Don't be silly, Grandpa," Liam said with a genuine little laugh. He folded the Knight Rider shirt his father had given him into a clump and added it to the bag.

Henry didn't know how to pursue the matter, but he didn't want to drop it.

"Should I know who Emily is?"

Liam lifted his hat solely, it seemed, so that Henry could see him rolling his eyes. "Of course, Grandpa."

Liam wasn't being flippant or purposefully vague, but that didn't help his frustration.

Fishing, a sport involving hours of waiting, was a favorite of Henry's. Years of interrogating suspects had taught him additional patience. But at that moment he wanted nothing more than to sit Liam down and demand a straight answer.

"Is she a friend of yours?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes I don't like her at all. She can be pretty annoying."

Henry sighed, his toe nudging a stuffed panda's belly on the floor.

Having finished packing, Liam zipped the overstuffed bag and hefted it up. He made his way to Henry. "Can you carry this, Grandpa?"

"Sure," Henry took the bag and stood. "Go say goodbye to your mom and dad. I'll be down in a minute."

Liam bounded off with an energy Henry envied. Sighing, he dropped the bag on the bed. He couldn't in good conscious leave the kid's room like that.

It took only a few moments to move the two dressers back to their former spots. Surveying the rest of the room, Henry decided he didn't have the amount of time required to properly pick it up, but he could at least put the clothes in the hamper in the closet.

He had just finished picking up the last pile when he saw it. Under a Froot Roll Up wrapper, next to the Hotwheels squad car Henry had given him.

It was a small notebook. Mad had bought it as part of a present the last time she visited. The gigantic box of crayons that went with it was no doubt buried under another pile of junk.

Henry bent down and picked it up. The edges of the sheets were worn. He didn't have to open it; he knew what he'd find.

He added the book to the duffel bag and headed downstairs.

Liam hadn't stopped drawing.

He'd only stopped showing them.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note:

I think sufficient time (and a third viewing) has passed since last night's episode squeefest for me to calm down and post. Thank you to Luna for helping me remember the phrase I was trying to think of - and thanks to my brother who reminded me of the phrase I'd stopped typing halfway through. Where was my mind? Oh yeah, on the whump. :P

I wasn't sure how... articulate... a four year old can be, but my cousins visited around the holidays (2 boys, 4 and 5, and a girl, 2). Those kids crack me up. And we had some great conversations. So I don't think it's not beyond credibility.

Also, the entire dinner scene wasn't even planned. But it broke my heart.

~*~*~*

Shawn stood at the top of the stairs, clutching the blanket around him as he struggled to breathe correctly again.

Shawn hated being sick. Not that anyone was really a fan, but he hated it. He especially hated when his wife was sick at the same time. He liked looking after her, helping her feel better, but it was harder when his own immune system demanded his attention.

Once enough oxygen had finally made it through his fortress of nasal congestion, Shawn continued on his way. He knocked gently on the bedroom door.

Juliet was curled up on her side. Her eyes were closed but from her wheezy breathing he could tell she wasn't quite asleep.

"Hey," he whispered, slowly taking a seat by her stomach. He reached a hand up to her forehead, which he quickly jerked back. She definitely had a fever, although he'd been experiencing chills so he should probably check with a thermometer. "How're you feeling?"

"I feel great," Jules opened one eye. "You don't look so good yourself."

Juliet thought that he was just making a face, but a moment later Shawn turned his head and sneezed into his tissues.

"Bless you," she murmured, closing her eyes again.

"Thanks. Are you keeping anything down?"

"No. That Gatorade burned my throat."

"Not even water?"

She shook her head weakly against the pillow.

"That's it," Shawn got to his feet and picked up the phone off the nightstand. "I'm calling Dr. Nyland, and Gus is going to take you."

"Gus?" Jules mumbled, eyes still closed. "Why not you?"

"To be perfectly honest, I don't think I can be away from a bathroom that long. Besides, Gus owes me."

This time, Juliet opened both eyes.

Shawn grinned. "Okay, then, he can add it to my tab."

Shawn left Jules in peace to make his phone calls. He had to end it quickly with Gus so he could run to the bathroom.

Man, he hated being sick.

*~*~*~

Henry buckled Liam into the truck and walked around to the driver's side. "Where do you want to eat tonight?" he asked as he closed the door.

"The Krusty Krab," Liam answered immediately, eyes sparkling.

"The Krusty Kr- I've never heard of it. D'you mean Crabshack Willie's?" Henry asked, pulling into traffic and heading towards the restaurant. "I think they have a pretty good kid's menu."

Liam sighed, watching the scenery pass. Sometimes Grandpa didn't understand jokes like Daddy did.

At least Liam liked fish sticks.

Though it was a Friday, it was early still and the restaurant hadn't yet started to fill to capacity. They only had to wait a few minutes before being seated.

Their server gave them menus (and, after a quick glance, Henry was pleased to realize he was right – they did have a nice kids' menu) and left them in peace; it appeared more so out of busy preparation for the dinner rush than out of consideration, but Henry appreciated it nevertheless; he hated when they hovered.

"Grandpa?" Liam queried, swinging his legs as he arranged the crayons on the table.

Henry looked down at him from over the top of the menu. "What?"

"How come you're not a cop anymore?"

Henry was still for a second before shutting the menu and putting it down on the table.

"How many hats-"

"Five," Liam answered without skipping a beat.

Maybe Henry _was_ getting predictable.

"Liam," he sighed. He was right, of course, and Henry was proud of his little protege, but it had bought Henry no time nor had it distracted the tyke. He leaned backwards in his seat. "It's a long story."

"But we haven't even ordered yet," Liam pointed out. "The restaurant will start getting busy soon. We have time."

Henry sighed. "Well, I'm too old to be a cop now."

"_Now_ you are. But Daddy said you retired early."

"Oh. Daddy said that, did he?"

Liam nodded enthusiastically.

"And he didn't tell you why?"

Liam shook his head.

"I hate to disappoint you, kid, but it's not an exciting story. Things were difficult between your grandma and me, and between your dad and me. On top of that, I had a string of unsolved cases and I was starting to feel like I was past my prime. Do you know what that means?"

"No," Liam answered, tugging on the wrapper of his crayon.

"I felt like my best days as a cop were behind me. Like I wasn't sharp enough anymore. Like I should get out while I was still al-" Henry caught himself. "While I was still young enough to do things I wanted to do."

His answer seemed to content Liam. "Like fishing?"

"Yes. Definitely fishing. And traveling. Gardening. Fixing things around the house."

"Helping Daddy," Liam added with a knowing smile. Henry grinned.

"Exactly. You guys all keep me very busy."

"But," Liam paused, peeling at the violet Crayola wrapper thoughtfully. "Don't you miss it?"

Henry's finger pushed slightly at the edge of the menu. "Yes. And no."

He thought he'd have to elaborate, but the waiter arrived to take their order. Afterward, Liam's attention had turned to the place mat maze. It took him no time at all to complete it.

The waiter brought their beer and chocolate milk, and Henry opened Liam's straw wrapper while watching him hesitate over coloring in the giant, grinning octopus in the bottom corner of the place mat.

"Can't decide which color?" Henry asked gently, wondering how to gingerly broach the subject he'd wanted to discuss for a long time.

"The pink's too pink," he complained, his voice quiet.

"You could draw a starfish next to it," Henry suggested, carefully gauging his reaction. "Color it pink."

Liam sighed. "I don't like drawing, Grandpa."

"But you still do it," Henry responded. He took a sip of beer.

Liam looked up and noticed he'd been caught. Henry could practically hear Shawn's genes helping him create a plausible lie. Ultimately, his Juliet side must have won out because Liam went with the truth. "Sometimes," he mumbled.

Henry nodded vaguely towards the truck. "Your notebook's awfully full for someone who only draws sometimes."

Liam's eyes narrowed, his mouth hardening into a defiant straight line that was eerily reminiscent of his father's. "You looked at my notebook!?"

"I didn't say I looked at it," Henry replied calmly.

"It's mine," Liam defended passionately, crossing his arms over his chest. "I know my rights."

"Your rights?" Henry stifled a laugh. The boy was something else.

"I didn't do anything wrong. You need a warrant. Or probably cause," Liam explained matter-of-factly.

"Probable cause."

"That's what I said. It's mine and you can't look at it!"

"I didn't look at it," Henry reiterated, a hint of exasperation creeping into his voice. "They're your drawings and you don't have to show them to anyone if you don't want to."

Henry took a breath. He waited until Liam met his eyes before softening his voice and continuing. "Look, kiddo. You have a gift. I don't understand it, you don't understand it, none of us quite understands it, but if your drawings can help save people's lives…" Henry trailed off, confident that Liam could follow his train of thought.

Judging by the brief look of shame that passed over the boy's face, Henry knew Liam understood. He hadn't meant for him to feel guilty about it, though.

"Liam, don't look like that. You haven't done anything wrong."

"Yes I did," he admitted quietly, staring at the table.

"Hey," Henry said gently. He reached a hand across the table to nudge Liam's. "Look at me."

Reluctantly, Liam raised his head. Henry met his gaze.

"You didn't do anything wrong," he said firmly, not breaking eye contact.

Liam blinked. "But, Grandpa, I did," he said miserably. "My drawings made it happen."

Before Henry could even open his mouth, their waiter was back, balancing the two plates. He slid them onto the table in front of them, oblivious to the serious cloud hanging over them.

"Let me know if you two need anything," the waiter told them cheerfully before bustling off to another table.

All the visits to the doctors and the shrinks, the conversations with his parents... and Henry knew he'd never told them any of it.

No wonder he couldn't sleep.

Liam examined a French fry while Henry contemplated what to say next.

"Your drawings didn't make anything happen, Liam."

"Yes they did," Liam responded forcefully. "And if I can stop drawing, they'll stop happening."

Henry's heart broke at the pained expression on his grandson's face. On top of whatever bad dreams he was already having, the kid'd been being plagued by feelings of guilt. The harsh overhead lighting made Liam's eyes sparkle with unshed tears.

"But I can't," his voice was nothing more than a quiet squeak."I can't stop drawing. I tried. It hurts."

They sat in silence for a moment, their food untouched, while Henry chose his words.

"Liam, we've talked about cause and effect, haven't we?" Henry started, opening the ketchup bottle and passing it to him.

Liam took the bottle and shrugged. "I think so."

"Okay. Then you know how sometimes people think that one thing causes another when really it's just an unrelated chain of events."

Liam stared blankly.

"It's called 'post hoc, ergo propter hoc.' It's Latin for 'after it, therefore because of it.' Just because you draw these things doesn't mean you're making them happen. That'd be like if I," Henry searched for an appropriate simile. "If I caused Tom to chase Jerry just by turning on the TV."

Liam scrunched up his face, making out from the context that Tom and Jerry were from some sort of archaic TV show. But, despite missing the reference (as he often did when his father spoke), Liam understood what he meant.

"I didn't make it happen?" he asked hopefully.

"Of course not."

Liam contemplated the conviction of his grandfather's words. Grandpa never lied to him. Never. So... it had to be true.

"Okay," he agreed. He took a bite of a fry and smiled at Henry.

Henry gave a small smile back. He wasn't sure if the kid really believed it, but it was a start.

After three bedtime stories mined from Shawn's childhood antics, Henry tucked Liam into Shawn's old bed and made it as far as the light switch before a voice called out.

"Grandpa?"

Despite his eyes having closed twenty seconds earlier, Liam sounded wide awake.

Henry retreated back into the room but didn't turn the light back on. "Yes, Liam?"

"Are Mommy and Daddy going to find the Johannsens?"

Henry sighed quietly and sank onto the edge of the mattress.

"I don't know," he paused, deciding that a dose of optimism before bedtime might help Liam sleep through the night. Although, "I hope so," was all he dared to say.

"What if they don't?"

"Then they don't. There's thousands and thousands of people who disappear every year. Not all of them are found. But not all of them die, either. It's possible that the Johannsen family decided to run away and start over."

Liam sat up a little against his pillow. "But you said running away from your problems only makes more problems."

"That's true. Running away doesn't help. Maybe they were desperate enough to try anything."

"But they didn't take anything. Not even their car," Henry recognized Liam's look; it was identical to Shawn's when he was trying to solve a puzzle.

He couldn't help his feeling of pride. Maybe there'd be another Spencer cop after all.

"That's very smart thinking, Liam, but all sorts of things could have happened. They could have called a cab from a pay-as-you-go cell phone. They could have taken a bus to the airport, or to a train."

"They could have borrowed a car from their friends!" Liam added excitedly. "Like Daddy borrows Uncle Gus's car."

Henry smiled. "Exactly." he patted Liam's blanket-covered feet. "Your parents and Uncle Gus and Detective Lassiter are on the case, so you don't have to worry about it. Okay, kiddo?"

Liam nodded.

Henry started to stand.

"Grandpa?"

Henry sat back down. "Yes, Liam?"

"Would Mommy and Daddy find me if I disappeared?"

"Yes," Henry said firmly. "They would search everywhere. They would go to the ends of the Earth to find you. They'd never stop. And if they didn't find you the first time, they'd look again and again. And we would all help them. Everyone. We'd find you and bring you back home where you belong."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Pinky swear?"

"I never make a promise I don't intend to keep," he told him, reaching out his pinky finger and hooking it around his grandson's. "I pinky swear. Now, get some sleep. The sooner you fall asleep, the sooner we can go fishing."

Liam's face lit up. "Okay. Goodnight, Grandpa."

"Goodnight, kiddo."


	10. Chapter 10

I think it's a good thing that I'm constantly surprised by the way this story is unfolding. Either that, or I need an outline. :)

* * *

Shawn had pulled Gus out of the fifth most boring meeting of the month in order to ask his chauffeuring favor, and Gus gladly accepted. He cited a family emergency and left the quarterly departmental expense review meeting so quickly that he expected a cloud of smoke to follow him, cartoon-style.

Now, however, Gus was beginning to wish he'd stayed in the meeting.

Dr. Nyland had been running twenty-five minutes late, and poor Juliet had spent that time either running to the bathroom or looking like she could run to the bathroom. She also seemed to get frustrated every time Gus offered her the small bucket he'd brought from the car.

Honestly. You try to help people and they just get angry.

Gus had already flipped through all of the four months of Parenting magazines and even last Halloween's issue of Highlights; Juliet had been in there a long time.

The woman two seats down coughed, belatedly putting a hand up as she hacked away.

Gus cringed.

He couldn't afford to get sick. He'd already broken his quarantine against the Spencers by driving Juliet, and although he would never tell her this to her face, he planned on disinfecting the car as soon as he dropped her off.

The gods must have taken pity on him because, just as Coughy McHack started up again he saw Juliet walk up to the receptionist counter on the other side of the door.

Juliet looked awful.

She started conversing with the redheaded receptionist, a few prescriptions in one hand while the other pointed to days on a desk calendar.

It must not just be the flu if she needed a follow up appointment.

Something was going on. He hoped she was okay.

Gus got to his feet and retrieved her coat from its spot near the door. He then made his way to the check-in desk, striking a casual pose as he waited for Juliet and tried his hardest not to spy.

But you couldn't spend any kind of time with Shawn without picking up a few of his observational habits. Though he was nowhere near the level of a fake psychic, Gus saw the receptionist hand Juliet a packet of pamphlets, informational sheets, and an appointment reminder card with Dr. Westwood's name circled.

Gus's eyes grew wide as he turned away from the window and leaned on the wall.

His fear that Juliet had some kind of serious, possibly lethal disease now abated, he smiled.

Dr. Westwood was an OB-GYN.

Juliet was pregnant.

Gus's smile turned mischievous. Juliet was pregnant and he knew it before Shawn did.

He could have some fun with this.

When Juliet walked through the door clutching her packet and prescriptions, she wasn't glowing or beaming, or even smiling. She looked a little shell-shocked.

Gus helped her into her coat and out to the car. She hadn't said anything, and had only made a sound when she had lurched from his supportive grasp and towards the lobby bathroom.

The car doors closed and they were silent. Gus put the keys in the ignition but didn't turn them.

"Everything okay, Jules?" he asked in his coyest voice.

Juliet looked over at him, surprised to see him there.

"Y-yeah. Dr. Nyland said I have a stomach bug."

Gus started the car, hiding his grin. "That's a nasty bug. You've been pretty sick."

"Yeah," she agreed absently.

"Especially in the mornings," he added not-very-subtley.

"Excuse me?"

"Congratulations!"

Juliet gasped. "You know!?" she exclaimed.

"I may have picked up on it."

"Gus, that's against HIPAA regulations. I'm surprised at you," she joked.

Gus grinned widely. "Why aren't you calling Shawn?"

"Why would I tell him over the phone when we'll be home in a few minutes?"

"Why tell him at all?"

Juliet's eyes narrowed. "Are you telling me I should hide my pregnancy from my husband?"

Gus laughed. "No, of course not. All I'm saying is, well, wouldn't it be nice to have some fun with him?"

Juliet didn't say anything, possibly because she was wondering where the emergency bucket was.

"I mean," Gus continued. "Last time, Shawn knew you were pregnant before you did. You have the upper hand now. I just think it'd be fun to see how long he takes to figure out this time around."

Having located the bucket, Juliet glanced at Gus. "What are you suggesting?"

"A friendly wager."

Her stomach settled slightly. "Okay."

"Do you really think you can keep it from him?"

It was Juliet's turn to grin. "How much do you want to bet?"

~*~*~*

Henry could have sworn he had only just closed his eyes when Liam bounced next to him on the bed.

"Time to get up, Grandpa," he sang.

Henry shifted his head and opened one bleary eye to read the alarm clock display.

"Liam, it's three thirteen in the morning."

He was excited to take the kid for his first fishing trip, but three AM was pushing it even for a registered early bird.

Liam, still bouncing, started to poke Henry's shoulder. "Come on, Grandpa! You said we had to wake up early."

Henry groaned. "It's still dark out, kiddo. The fish are sleeping."

"Fish don't sleep. They rest with their eyes open," Liam corrected. "Uncle Gus told me when we went to the aquarium."

"That's nice," Henry murmured, eyes still closed.

"Come on, Grandpa!" Liam pouted, stopping his bouncing long enough to cross his arms over his chest. "Breakfast is getting cold."

Henry's eyes snapped open. He looked over at Liam, who smiled despite his pouting stance.

Henry sniffed the air. No smoke, but it did smell faintly of…

"You made pancakes?" Incredulous couldn't even begin to describe the tone in Henry's voice.

Liam, however, missed it and nodded enthusiastically. "I'm not allowed to cut the pineapple so I made chocolate chip."

Henry sighed, sitting up. He was definitely awake now. He contemplated the mess in the kitchen.

"Liam," he warned, climbing out of bed. His grandson clambered after him. "You know you can't use the stove without a grown-up. That's very dangerous! You could have burned down the-"

"But I didn't use the stove," Liam defended, half-skipping as he followed Henry down the stairs.

"Then how did you make them?" he asked curiously.

He took two steps into the kitchen and stopped.

"The microwave," Liam explained, striding across the room to open the microwave door. "See?"

Henry surveyed the batter-like substance now decorating almost every surface of his previously spotless kitchen, focusing on the decidedly chocolatey lumps coating the microwave, table, and refrigerator.

Henry sighed, but was surprised at his lack of anger and frustration.

Either it was true that grandkids mellow you, or it was just too early in the morning, because Henry found himself almost smiling down at Liam. "Why don't you go get dressed and let me clean up here?"

Liam's face fell. "Aren't you going to eat? Mommy says breakfast is the most important meal."

Henry assessed the semi-gelatinous mounds on the plate in the microwave and gulped.

"What if I make us pineapple pancakes?" he bargained hopefully.

Liam lit up. "Okay," he raced towards the stairs but turned back before he reached them. "We'll eat those after the chocolate chip."

Liam ran off and Henry made a beeline for the coffee pot. If he got sick from those pancakes, Shawn was going to owe him big time.

*~*~*~*

Henry cut the engine.

The first rays of sunshine were just peeking through the trees and hitting the water.

He loved this little nook. They'd found it by accident one day several years ago, after letting Shawn drive the boat for fifteen minutes longer than he should have, but it was a pleasant discovery.

The water lapped against the sides of the boat, the sound surprisingly loud in the sudden quiet.

Liam fidgeted in his seat, adjusting the too-large hat as it yet again slid over his eyes.

"Grandpa?"

Henry handed him a pole. "Yes?"

Liam examined the pole in his hands, temporarily distracted. "How many fish can I catch?"

Henry eyed the tackle box. "It depends. We might catch one or two. Sometimes we catch a lot of them, but sometimes they aren't biting."

"Do we have enough room for all of them?"

Henry chuckled. "We have plenty of room."

"But where do you keep them til we get home?"

Henry showed him the cooler.

"There's no water," Liam said flatly.

"Why should there be water?"

"Fish need water, Grandpa," Liam said, his voice a tad indignant. He raised the hat again to look at Henry. "Otherwise they die."

"That's the point. You can't eat them if they're still alive. They have to be dead so you have to cook them. I mean, some people eat their fish raw, but I've never been a big fan of sushi. If I'm paying that much for fish, they're going to cook the damn thing."

Liam blinked slowly. "We're not keeping the fish?"

"No. Who gave you that idea?"

"Daddy."

Henry rubbed a hand across his face. He couldn't believe Shawn had said that.

Except he could.

He could completely believe it.

"We don't keep the fish, Liam. If they're too small, we throw them back. And if they're big enough, we take them home to make lunch."

Liam cocked his head to the side, his young brain processing this information. "You mean my fish sticks are fish?!"

Henry wanted to laugh at the expression on his face, but he knew he couldn't. "In a manner of speaking, yes."

"Eww."

Liam put down the pole and leaned up against the edge of the boat, his life vest hitting the edge as he peered into the murky water.

"Can't I just keep one as a pet?" he asked miserably, turning to face Henry.

Henry shook his head. "No pets. But you don't have to fish if you don't want to. We can go home."

Liam sat back down. He contemplated the pole. He didn't want to disappoint Grandpa. "I can try it,"

"Are you sure?" Henry took the pole from him. He opened the container of bait.

Liam's eyes went wide. "What are you doing?"

Henry stopped, the nightcrawler dangling mid-air.

"Using the bait," he told him, his stomach sinking. Something told him they weren't going to be eating fish for lunch.

Liam's eyes flickered between the wiggling worm and the point of the fishhook, glittering in the morning sun. His face took on a decidedly green hue.

"Grandpa," he said weakly, doubling over. "I don't feel so good."

Henry recognized that look; it was the look Shawn'd had right before he'd been sick the first time Henry took him fishing.

Liam launched himself toward the edge of the boat as he emptied his stomach.

Unfortunately, the hat went overboard alongside breakfast.

Although he'd denied it, Henry wondered if Liam had had any of the microwave pancakes. Or, he supposed, the kid just could be getting the same bug his parents had.

He rubbed Liam's back until he was done, watching the fishing hat bob in the noticeably murkier water.

When Liam was done, Henry smiled sadly. "Let's get you home, huh?"

Liam nodded, rubbing his stomach.

Henry started the engine. As he drove, he periodically checked over his shoulder to make sure Liam was okay.

"GRANDPA!"

Henry's heart lurched as he eased up on the throttle. "What?" he shouted over the roar of the motor.

Liam staggered over to him. "What about my hat?"

"I'll get you another one."

"But I want that one!"

"Liam, it's all dirty."

"Mommy can wash it."

"Liam-"

"Grandpa, I need my hat! We need to go back!"

Henry studied the determined look in the kid's eyes. "We'll go get your hat," he said gently, turning the boat around.

Liam sat back down. He didn't look nauseated anymore, but he was still on edge.

Henry easily spotted the hat floating a few feet from where Liam had… from where they'd been. Stifling his disgust, Henry leaned over the side to grab the soiled object.

"There," he said, holding out the dripping hat as he turned around. "Now don't you dare touch this until we get home."

Liam nodded solemnly. Henry got back in the driver's seat, but before he could go anywhere there was a tap on his shoulder.

Liam stood next to him, holding out his notebook.

It was open.

And the drawing looked exactly like the view of the coast behind them.

The breeze was chilly. That was why Henry shivered. Not because…

"What's that?"

Liam pointed to the coast. "It's my drawing."

Henry tensed. "I can see that."

"I want to help them, Grandpa. I want to be a hero like you and Mommy and Daddy. I think I know where they are."

"Where who are?" Henry asked cautiously, eyeing the wooded beach in his periphery.

"The Johannsens."

Henry glanced at his watch. Sick or not, Shawn wouldn't be up until it hit double digits.

He wondered if Juliet was feeling better.

Slipping the phone out of his pocket, Henry dialed the familiar number. He reached out his arm and draped it over Liam's shoulders. He ruffled his hair as the phone rang.

"You've done good, kid."

*~*~*~


	11. Chapter 11

OH MY GOD! I can't believe I'm finally updating this. It feels like Liam is about thirty seven years old now?

Thank you, readers, for your kind patience (and not-so-kind patience). I hope it doesn't disappoint too badly.

* * *

Juliet unlocked the door and walked inside, Gus on her heels.

She was relieved to find Shawn asleep in his blanket cocoon.

"You got lucky," Gus told her quietly.

She merely smirked at him.

She could do this. She could win the bet. It wasn't like Shawn knew everything about her. She had secrets...and although she couldn't think of any off the top of her head, she was certain she did.

She coughed, and Gus realized he was standing three feet from two sick people.

He backed up and motioned to the door. "I'm going to get going," he whispered.

"Scaredy cat," Juliet teased.

"I'm not scared; I'm just not getting sick," he declared, opening the door. "And you're on the honor system."

Juliet rolled her eyes. "You can trust me, Gus."

Gus narrowed his eyes suspiciously before grinning. "Feel better, Jules," he said, delicately closing the door behind him.

Juliet, eyeing Shawn to make sure he was actually asleep, patted the zipper pocket of her purse where she'd shoved her paperwork and she walked towards the bedroom.

She needed a shower.

Once undressed, she glanced at her stomach in the mirror. A slow grin spread across her face.

It was going to be the hardest $20 she'd ever won.

After a quick shower she crawled back into bed, ready to dream about secret little beautiful babies.

~*~*~

The swarm of police officers spread out along the coast, a picture of uniformed chaos. After weeks with the Johannsen case only growing colder, they'd had a lead. No one questioned the source.

Lassiter shouted orders, commanding the group into organization.

Henry and Liam hung around the outer edges, Henry sitting on a large, mossy log while Liam poked a stick in the soggy soil.

"Did they find them yet?"

Henry's eyes drifted to the search party. "Not yet, kiddo."

Liam, content with his assessment, continued to play with the stick. Henry, meanwhile, shifted on the log and tried to find the same level of patience that his grandson had.

Twenty minutes passed before anyone approached them.

"Hey, guys," Juliet greeted.

"Hi, Mom!" Liam dropped his stick and ran to hug her. "Hi Dad."

"Hi, Liam," Although Shawn was standing next to them, the pillow marks still etched on his face indicated he'd rather be elsewhere. "'Morning, Dad," he nodded in Henry's direction, stifling a yawn with minimal success.

"Good morning, Shawn," Henry smirked. He was impressed that Juliet had managed not only to wake him, but to drag him out there looking halfway presentable, too.

"I'm going to go check in with Lassiter," Juliet told them, heading off towards the cops. Liam returned to his stick-in-mud game.

Shawn sank down onto the log - something told Henry that if Henry were to stand, Shawn would have no problem stretching out and falling asleep. On a log.

"So Juliet's feeling better?"

"Mmm hmm," Shawn mumbled, pulling his jacket tighter around him.

"You're not?" As always, Henry could only control the majority of the concern in his voice.

"I'm better in the sense that I don't need to be chained to the bathroom anymore," he told him. "Though I do feel the need to sleep."

Shawn glanced at Liam before turning back to Henry and lowering his voice. "Jules was vague and I'm still hopped up on DayQuil. What happened?"

"Your son drew a picture."

"A picture?" Shawn repeated, suddenly finding a small reserve of energy. His eyes narrowed and his voice lowered even more. "Don't you mean you made him draw a picture?" he hissed.

"I didn't make him draw anything!" Henry defended, a little too loudly. Both men smiled when Liam turned their way. Liam smiled back and continued playing.

"I didn't make him draw anything," Henry repeated, just above a whisper. "He had a book of drawings. He never stopped - he was just too afraid to show us."

Shawn sighed. He buried his head in his hands and wished he weren't so tired.

"What was the drawing?" he asked reluctantly.

"This," Henry motioned to the police activity in the distance. "The woods. The view of the woods from the boat."

"So the family's supposed to be here?"

Henry never answered because there was a shout and a flurry of activity.

All three Spencer men looked up at the commotion.

They'd found the dog.

But they'd only found the dog, and so the search continued.

Shawn had started to doze off by the time Juliet returned. Her somber expression said it all, and Shawn was instantly more awake than he'd been all morning.

"They found them. It was... too late," she quietly informed them, although Shawn and Henry had already guessed as much.

Liam looked up, stick forgotten. "What?"

The adults shared a look before Juliet knelt down to Liam's level. "I'm sorry, Liam, but the Johannsens are gone."

Her son's jaw jutted out slightly. "They didn't look hard enough!" he insisted, breaking free of her grasp and jogging towards the police activity.

Shawn was after him before Juliet or Henry could even react.

"Liam!"

Shawn caught up with him a few yards from the base camp.

"I have to help them look, Dad, since they can't do their job."

Shawn rolled his eyes, wondering when Liam had overheard him mumbling a similar sentiment. "Liam. Buddy. Listen."

Liam stopped at the serious tone in his father's voice. He turned and looked expectantly at him. Shawn cleared his throat and squatted down.

"Liam, what, uh, what Mommy meant wasn't that the Johannsens are still missing." 'Please figure out what I'm saying,' Shawn pleaded silently, watching his son's sparkling eyes and waiting for the moment the knowledge would darken them.

But Liam was young, and he wasn't going to make it easy on him.

"Then where did they go? Why isn't everyone cheering?"

Shawn groaned. "Son, the Johannsens..." he started, then softened his tone even more. "Liam, the Johannsens are dead."

Shawn watched as his son processed the information and decided it didn't compute. "No, Dad," he insisted. "They're okay. They're in the shed. But not the dog - she escaped. But they're all okay. Katie told me. She said it's okay now and it didn't hurt. He didn't hurt them, Daddy. They're alive!"

It was hard enough dealing with the abilities Liam had without adding "talking to ghosts" to his talents. Shawn gulped and figured they could discuss that later. "They died."

By this time, Juliet and Henry had caught up to them, hovering between the two. "They died two or three days ago, sweetie," Juliet confirmed gently.

Liam shook his head, confusion and hurt etching themselves onto his face. "No. He didn't hurt them. They're fine. They're alive!" And before anyone could stop him, Liam ran off in the direction of the shed.

In a flash, Shawn and Juliet were after him, Henry not far behind. Liam, being younger and swifter and with a several second head start, made it to the crime scene first.

Luckily, Lassiter managed to stop him before he reached the bodies.

"Hey, kid. Stop. You don't want to-"

Liam ignored him, trying to slip between his legs. Lassiter was too fast, though, and picked him up. Liam struggled, but he was no match for the lanky cop.

"Listen, I know you're... a part of this case, kid, but you are not going in there."

Liam stopped thrashing and twisted in Lassiter's grip. "Why not?" he asked tearfully.

Lassiter swallowed. His eyes slipped to his partner's, who was now approaching with the two Spencers in tow. Deciding against a simple "Because," Lassiter declared, "Kids aren't allowed in crime scenes."

He placed Liam back on the mushy ground, eyeing him cautiously as if he might dart between his legs again. But it was only the child's eyes that drifted to the shed.

The four adults shared a look before Shawn took a few steps towards his son. "Come on, Liam. Let's go home."

When Shawn picked him up, Liam didn't protest, instead slumping against his shoulder. They made plans to see Henry later, and then trudged back to the car. The ride home was silent.

As soon as they were inside the house, Liam went straight to his bedroom. Shawn and Juliet sat at the table, neither one particularly talkative.

"God, Jules. I don't know what the hell to do," Shawn admitted, running a hand through his hair.

Juliet sighed and absently rubbed her stomach. "I'm not sure how much more of this he can take," she said quietly. "Or we," she added. She lifted her eyes to Shawn. "I saw those bodies. Whoever killed them did... awful things to them."

Juliet sighed again and rubbed her forehead. "I don't want him to see it, asleep or awake. But what do we do? We can't protect him from it..." she trailed off, closing her eyes. "He's too young."

"But he thought they were alive. Maybe... maybe the... maybe they're censoring it for him."

"Yeah, but that's not much help, is it? Because now he thinks he could have saved them."

Shawn inhaled and exhaled slowly. "I don't know. Maybe... maybe we should go back to Dr what's-her-face, the last one."

"The shrink?"

Shawn nodded.

"Maybe," Juliet agreed, though she doubted it would help enough. She got to her feet. "I'm going to go talk to him," she announced.

When she opened the door, Liam was curled on his side in the fetal position, a death grip on his stuffed pineapple. His eyes were open, but he was just staring into space. At least, Juliet hoped he was.

"Liam?"

He didn't move; he didn't even blink.

She walked over to the foot of the bed, slowly sitting down onto the mattress next to him. She gently touched his shoulder and he immediately responded, turning and clinging to her, burying his head into her shoulder. The force knocked her sideways, and she ended up lying awkwardly on the bed, her son hugging her side.

"You did a good thing today," she whispered, running her hand through his hair. "I'm going to talk to the Chief about getting you your own badge. I think you deserve one, don't you?"

Liam answered without moving his head, his words muffled. "I don't want a badge. I don't want to be a cop."

"You don't have to be a cop," Juliet told him. "You don't have to at all, sweetie."

"Good."

"It's okay if I'm still a cop, though, right?" Her tone was gentle, almost playful, but Liam wasn't having any of it.

"I don't care," he mumbled into her shoulder.

"Good," Juliet said, heaving a stage sigh of relief. "I hate looking for a new job."

Liam didn't smile, and they sat in silence for a moment. Juliet stared at the wall, trying to find a way to help her son.

"Mommy?" Liam asked, shifting onto his back and nestling into the crook of her shoulder. She shifted, too, settling onto her back.

"Hmm?"

He raised his eyes to meet hers. She ignored the prickling of tears in her eyes when she realized he'd been crying. "Why couldn't I help them?"

He was so young. He shouldn't even know of death - though he'd been exposed to it since birth, since before birth, really, since she was working cases right up until her water broke. How could she answer questions that she didn't know the answers to? 'Why is the sky blue?' she could handle. Hell, even 'Where do babies come from?' was easier than this.

"Sometimes there's only so much help we can give. Sometimes we're too late, or it's not enough."

"Why?" he demanded angrily, sitting up and turning an accusatory face towards her.

"I really don't know," she answered honestly, sitting up. "Being a cop... you know, it's only sometimes that you can't help. Most of the time, almost all of the time, we can help .So all those times we can help make it easier to deal with the few times that we can't," Juliet paused, feeling like she'd been rambling. "Does that make any sense?"

Liam considered it. "A little."

"Do you remember when we went to the zoo a few months ago?"

Liam nodded.

"You know how I met you there? And I was grouchy-"

"Really grouchy," he interrupted.

Juliet smiled slightly. "Yes, really grouchy," she amended. "I was in a bad mood that day because we had a case we couldn't solve."

"Did Daddy help?"

"Not even Daddy could solve it."

"Oh."

"You're not old enough yet for all the unfairness and all the problems of the world."

"I'm almost five!" he protested.

"I know, I know," she comforted with a smile. "But sometimes I don't think I'm even old enough. You won't be an adult for a long, long time. You shouldn't have to worry about things. You shouldn't have to think about saving people and solving cases. You should... you should be playing outside, tracking mud on my clean carpets... writing on the walls with markers."

"I can write on the walls?" Liam asked, a sense of wonder in his question.

Juliet couldn't help but laugh. "No. Please don't. But you know what I mean, right? I don't want you to worry about these grown up things. Okay? Whatever you see, I want you to tell me or Daddy or Grandpa or Uncle Gus, and we'll help. No more hiding your drawings. Okay? You're not alone, Liam. You're never alone. Do you understand?

"Yes," Liam nodded, and for the first time Juliet felt like maybe things would be better.


End file.
